


level up

by holtzmanns



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Boxer AU, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, Minor Angst, Slow Burn, holtz back at it again w a multichapter, million dollar baby minus the sadness and angst and that ending LMAOOO, so not really million dollar baby at all. just the boxing part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzmanns/pseuds/holtzmanns
Summary: “Vanessa, Brooke’s going to be your partner.” Kameron throws a haphazard arm around Brooke, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh when Brooke rolls her eyes. “Careful, though. She won’t go easy on you.”Brooke. So that’s her name.“I don’t think she wants me to.” Brooke’s lip curls up in a smile as she gets closer, and Vanessa has to try hard, really, not to fidget. To stay cool.Because she’s cool. Right?“I won’t go easy on you either then, Miss Thing.” Vanessa sniffs.Her bravado is going to get the best of her eventually, she knows that. But how’s Vanessa going to be the shit if she doesn’t convince herself of it first?What do you get when you pair a retired boxer with a new girl who has something to prove? Another holtz multichap special, that's what.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 168
Kudos: 129





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again!! It's been awhile since the last multichap. This one isn't as prewritten, and may take a little bit longer to post because of real life happenings. That being said, I hope you enjoy it! To whoever sent me a million asks on tumblr telling me to post it now rather than waiting: I love you. Writ, as always, is the best for betaing <3 Enjoy!

“I’m not going in there.”

“Like hell you aren’t. If I have to pick your ass up from the station one more time ‘cause you can’t stop picking fights with people twice your size, I’m gonna lose it.”

“How’s a musty boxing gym gonna help with that?”

Vanessa slouches in the seat of her sister’s car, crossing her arms, because the whole thing is stupid. 

It had been Rob’s idea, anyway. Alexis’ boyfriend. Also the cop who’s kept her from etching ink onto her criminal record. Doesn’t make his idea any less ridiculous.

Alexis sighs, and the sight is reminiscent of their mom’s expression when she’s overworked and impatient and coming off a twelve hour shift. “Because you need to channel whatever... _this_ is, properly. You can’t keep blowing up at people, ‘cause I’m not always gonna be around to bail your ass out.”

“He deserved it.” Vanessa mutters under her breath, because the guy did. “He wouldn’t stop harassing A’keria even though she told him she had a boyfriend, why wouldn’t I sock him in the jaw?”

“Because the cops had to come and break the fight up and the makeup on your face is doing absolutely nothing to hide your black eye.” Alexis’s voice is flat, and Vanessa looks in the mirror and scowls, because she hates that her sister is right. “All I’m saying is, there’s other ways to do things. Such as not punching strangers - even if they deserve it.”

“So coming to...Hytes Boxing is going to change that?” Vanessa wrinkles her nose as she reads the name on the side of the building. The fluorescent lights behind the sign are flickering, withering out, and the surrounding air has a faint odour reminiscent of gym socks.

Hell, the holding cell at the local station smells better. Vanessa’s had to spend the night there enough times to know. 

“Maybe letting out some punches on purpose here means you won’t explode on people when you’re all worked up and mad. Worth a shot. And you owe me, ‘cause sooner or later Rob’s gonna get tired of me begging him to let you off without even a fine.” 

“Getting into a bar fight isn't a reason for a fine.” Vanessa mutters, because it’s not, or at least she thinks it isn’t. She should know the law better, for how much she likes to tow the line on it.

Alexis raises an eyebrow as she pulls the keys out of the ignition. “Here’s how it’s going to play out. You’re coming in here and looking around with me, or I’m telling cousin Linda about the time you coloured all over her white purse when we were kids and she never found out it was you who did it-”

Vanessa groans, holding up a hand to make her sister stop talking. “Jesus, _fine._ Lead the way into gym sock central.”

Looking around, Vanessa’s not sure if punching a bag is as satisfying as socking a douchebag in the face, but the sweat soaked athletes with their hands wrapped in bandages look like they’re enjoying it enough, from the way that they keep letting loose hit after hit. It feels almost cultish - the way the coaches are cheering their athletes on, the way that they wear the sweat dripping down their skin like a badge of pride. 

Vanessa’s not sure if she wants to get herself that dirty, or smelly. Hell, she manages to keep her lashes in place most of the time she has to go off on someone to defend her girls. Though there _are_ women in sports bras with braids running down either sides of their heads working out all over the gym, and it’s almost enough to make Vanessa change her mind. 

A girl dressed similarly, but in a full tank top, waves from the front desk. She’s covered in tattoos, blues and greens lighting up her neck and chest and shoulders and Vanessa would get a closer look, really, if it didn’t mean that she’d be staring at the woman’s boobs. 

“First time here?” 

Vanessa chances a look down, spotting the woman’s name tag. “That it is, Kamer-”

“-So do y’all do anger management classes or something? ‘Cause my sister could use them. Or at least know how to throw a punch without breaking a knuckle. She’s done that.” Alexis leans across the counter, sticking out a hand for Kameron to shake, and she does with a grin on her face.

A real good first impression. Vanessa wants to disappear. 

“Shut up, Alexis.” Vanessa grumbles, because there’s no way she’s coming back now, with Alexis embarrassing her at any given opportunity. 

Not that Vanessa would expect anything else. 

“We don’t have the first, but we _can_ teach you how to throw a punch. Not that you look like you need much guidance.” Kameron looks Vanessa up and down, and it makes Vanessa feel better, really, for accidentally looking at her tits earlier. “You look scrappy. Who gave you that shiner?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can throw down a little.” Vanessa’s not gonna deny the truth, who is she to do that?

“Just a little?” Kameron raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips and it makes Vanessa scowl.

“Why, wanna test it out?”

“Seriously? Relax, Vanj.” Alexis holds out a hand, lets out a deep sigh. “Just take a class here. Don’t fight this nice woman.”

“I ain’t fighting anyone.” Vanessa mumbles, crossing her arms. Not yet, at least.

Kameron, for her part, looks more entertained than anything else, as she pulls out a flyer from behind the front desk. “Lucky for you, we have a sale on beginner classes right now, too. Think about it.”

“She doesn’t need to think about it. She’s doing it.”

“Shut _up_ , Alexis.”

* * *

The fatigue in Brooke’s muscles and tendons only become noticeable once she’s out of the ring, once the adrenaline in her system gives away to a feeling of lead that drags her down, her feet like anchors on the ground that want to bring the rest of her body with them.

But it’s a feeling that’s reassuring, helping to remind Brooke that she’s alive. That she’s gotten to this point because she’s capable of pushing her body like this, that hit after hit and the light shuffle of her feet are all that she really needs to reach greatness. 

She knows it’s not true, but it’s nice to live in delusion sometimes. She needs it these days.

Unrolling the wraps around her knuckles feels like she’s unwrapping an unlikely present every time, though her knuckles are calloused enough that a little bit of blood doesn’t bother her anymore. A cold rinse under the sink, a shake of her hands before she washes her face and she’s good to go. 

Brooke still uses the lockers like she always did when she was a kid, and it feels too strange not to do so now. Doesn’t matter that she owns the place and easily could use the private bathroom. 

It makes things too real. 

She’s about to push the door open, hurl the towel into the laundry basket that sits just outside the entrance, but she stops. Someone’s watching her.

“Can I help you?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow, because the girl’s meticulously done hair and tight jeans don’t exactly fit in with the rest of the gym. Nor does the layer of makeup on her face, even though it does make her glow a little bit.

“Your hands get that bloodied up and nasty every single time?” The girl looks mildly impressed. Brooke holds in a smile.

Brooke smirks. “Doesn’t exactly fit with your manicure, does it?” 

“Please.” The girl rolls her eyes, holding up her own hands with healing scabs along the knuckles. “You’re not that special, blondie.”

Huh.

“I stand corrected.” 

Brooke likes her. Mostly because she’s the only person who’s stepped foot in this gym with enough balls to say something back to her. Everyone else is still hung up over the legacy of her dad, over treating her differently because she’s his kid-

-used to be his kid.

It isn’t easy when everyone walks on eggshells around you.

So maybe it’s a little refreshing to meet someone who has no sweet clue about the history of the gym, and no idea that she owns it now. She doesn’t necessarily need to know it, either.

“Don’t your nails break off when you throw a punch? That can’t be comfortable.” Brooke has to hold herself back from making a face at the long nails, dark red and making clacking noises against the wall that the girl’s hand is resting on.

“You think I got money for acrylics? These are press ons, mama.” 

“That’s more like it.” Brooke leans against the wall, lets go of the door, if only because she’s enjoying the woman’s company. “Now what are you doing in a place like this?”

The girl holds up the flyer. “Thinking of trying a class. Not that I got a choice with my bitch of a sister.” She scowls, crossing her arms. “Since you go here and all that, would you recommend it? This shit fun?”

Brooke has to hold in a laugh. “It’s okay, yeah. I’d say it’s worth a try.”

She isn’t about to hype up her own gym but it’s fun, seeing what someone else thinks of the place without holding anything back. 

“Maybe I’ll do it, then. Do y’all gotta pay for your own gloves and wraps?” Vanessa gestures to the items in Brooke’s hands, makes a face at the blood and sweat stains on them. “Hope that shit goes in the laundry.”

Brooke grabs the end of her wrap, starts to roll it up. “You have to buy them, but I have a feeling you’ll like it. They’ll be an investment for someone like you.” 

The girl makes a face at Brooke, her nose wrinkling. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem like someone who can’t resist a challenge. There’s plenty of those here. Unless you want to let them go, of course.”

Sue Brooke, she wants to see what this girl is capable of, despite the fact that she looks like she’s never stepped foot in a boxing gym before today. There’s something about her that Brooke can’t help but be entertained by, despite the fact that she doesn’t even know her name.

“Let them go-bitch, I’ll be taking a class, don’t you worry your sweet little head about it.” The girl sniffs, running a hand through the waves on her head and Brooke’s reminded, for a second, of how sweaty and gross she must look next to her.

But hey, the girl’s still talking to her, so it’s a win.

“Good to hear.” Brooke can feel her lips curl up in a smile. She’s got this girl figured out already, and she likes it.

“Also I didn’t catch your name, Mohammed Ali. You a regular here or something?” The girl cocks her head, crosses her arms.

“You could say that. It’s-”

“Hytes, come over here!” Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym, and Brooke has to suppress a groan when she sees the redhead looking stricken in front of the cash register, which has probably broken down again. They really do need to buy a new one.

“Hytes?” The girl makes a face, her eyebrows raising on her forehead. “Ain’t that-”

“See you around, newbie.” Brooke pushes past her with a wave, heads for Kameron, because she can let the girl come to the realization by herself. She doesn’t need to be there.

Besides, Brooke has a feeling that the girl’s going to be back. She can find out her name another time.

* * *

“Vanj, I swear to God if you’re not in the car in the next thirty seconds-”

“What are you, a military sergeant? Relax! I’m coming!” 

Alexis is scowling by the time Vanessa skids down to the car, sliding into the passenger seat mere milliseconds before Alexis presses down on the gas pedal.

“What took you so long, anyway?” Alexis chances a glance over at a red light and Vanessa shrugs, before pulling down the passenger seat mirror.

“No reason.”

Vanessa had absolutely not been trying to get her braids to look like those of the girls at the gym as they had been about to leave. Nope.

Not at all. Even though that’s exactly where Alexis is dropping her off.

She’s kinda succeeded, though. Almost feels like she’ll blend in with them. 

Except that it’s a bit of a rude shock when they reach the gym, and Vanessa’s confronted by all the _muscle._ The guns. The quads. The abs poking through. All of the athletes are built, really built, and it’s enough to make Vanessa shrink back against the entrance every second a punching bag rattles, or a body hits the floor. 

How’d she ever think before coming back here that she was gonna cut it?

But the hole in her bank account left by the deposit for the beginner boxing class is hard to forget (sweet jesus, she needs payday to hit again). So Vanessa heads towards the change rooms, pushing the heavy doors open because she doesn’t really have any other choice.

“No, wait, wait, I wasn’t ready! We gotta start again, girl.”

“Not my fault you can’t hold a handstand. You snooze, you lose.” 

“I’m gonna push you over-”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

Vanessa has to try hard to hold back a laugh at the mess of limbs in the middle of the change room, two girls having fallen on top of each other yet somehow still bickering. She scoots around them but can’t tear her eyes away, especially as their argument continues while they go back into handstands. 

“You play dirty.”

“Do not. All is fair in love and war, baby.” 

“They’re always like that. Don’t mind them.” The voice in Vanessa’s ear makes her jump, as a girl in a purple sports bra and leggings walks up to her, starts putting bobby pins into her hair. “Pretty standard.”

“Mind them? I’m loving this free sitcom. Is it always handstands?” Vanessa tilts her head and watches as one of the girls tries to walk in her handstand. The sight is impressive, admittedly. 

“Yesterday it was cartwheels across the hallway. I swear, one of ‘em will break their wrists doing stupid shit before they ever hurt it while sparring. Not that it isn’t entertaining as shit.” The girl beside Vanessa shrugs, sticks her hand out. “Asia.” 

“Vanjie.” She's not sure how hard she needs to shake Asia’s hand, if the girl is judging her handshake strength, but Vanessa doesn’t get to mull it over much before the girl is pulling her hand away, pointing to the two girls in the middle of her room. 

“Is that your real name?” Asia raises an eyebrow and Vanessa shakes her head, snickering. 

“You think my mom would look at my bald newborn head and name me Vanjie?”

“I got a cousin named Eunice, so you never know.” Asia shrugs, before pointing to the two still wrestling on the ground. “These two bozos are Monet and Monique, respectively.” 

Monet pushes her braids away from her face and waves. “I’d shake your hand with mine, but I was trying to push Monique over and I’m pretty sure she farted on it-”

“Bitch, _what-”_

Asia shrugs when Monet and Monique start to wrestle on the ground. “See?”

Vanessa snickers. “Y’all are wild. Real wild. I love it already.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, girl.” Asia shrugs, starts wrapping her knuckles. “So, you joining the class?”

“Something like that.” Vanessa shrugs, and there’s so many things she wants to ask, all the curiosity building up inside her about what’s going to happen but she keeps it back. Doesn’t want to look too keen already. “What’s it like?”

Asia cocks an eyebrow when an announcement begins to blare on the overhead speakers. “You’re about to find out.”

It doesn’t take long for Vanessa’s intrigue to fade into breathlessness, a desire to collapse on the matts because she’s about to pass out, truly pass out, only fifteen minutes into the class. Or at least her legs and arms are going to collapse on her from all the hell she's putting them through, trying to keep up with Kameron’s barking orders that seem specifically designed to torture her. 

“Give me another set! Twenty burpees, let's go!”

“I thought-this was a boxing class.” Vanessa pants out the words in between gasps for breaths, looking over at Asia who is equally as sweaty. 

Asia shrugs before dropping down for another burpee, nearly falling on her own arms. “Can’t punch someone if you don’t have the strength and endurance to back it up. At least, that’s what our lovely dictator up there says.” Asia lets out a groan, rolling her shoulders before her next rep. “Crazy bitch.” 

“What was that, Asia?” Kameron raises her eyebrows from her spot at the front of the room, and Asia wastes no time in shooting her a dazzling smile. 

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.” 

Vanessa’s not sure if she catches Kameron winking at Asia, but the ache in her arms is more important for her to focus on right now. The last few reps of burpees make Vanessa feel like she’s going to throw up, maybe die before she makes it to the end, from the way the sweat is dripping from her brow and her legs are shaking and-

“Water break!” 

_Finally._

Vanessa practically stumbles to the bench, grabbing her water bottle and collapsing onto the seat in one fell swoop. Asia plops down beside her, wiping her sweat on the back of her hand as she leans against the wall, while Monique and Monét traipse over almost leisurely, as if Kameron hadn’t just attempted to murder them all through exercise. 

“Shit. No wonder y’all are fuckin’ built like you belong in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.” Vanessa rests her head against the wall, stares up at the giant ceiling fans that do little to circulate the stale air around the gym. 

“We actually have to try for it! This one over here,” Monet exclaims, pointing to Monique, “already has a natural six pack. Freak of nature, jesus.” 

“It’s called eating well.” Monique sniffs, tossing back a sip of water. 

Monét raises an eyebrow. “You had an entire pizza for dinner last night. Not half. A full pizza. And your stomach is rock solid.”

“The lord just blesses some of us, that’s all.” 

“C’mon back, guys.” Kameron’s voice calls out, and Vanessa can’t help but let out a groan, closing her eyes.

She can’t keep going. She’s too weak. Her muscles are fully jelly and-

“Hey!” Vanessa yelps when Monique and Monet each grab one of her hands, pulling her up into a standing position. 

“C’mon. The fun part of class is only starting now.” Asia tilts her head towards the punching bags that Kameron is steadying, the mats that she is pulling out of the closet against the wall. “No more burpees anymore.”

Now _this_ is a setting Vanessa can vibe with. She follows the other girls in grabbing her hand wraps, tries not-so-subtly to watch how Monique and Monet wrap theirs almost effortlessly. Even Asia ties hers off with a flourish, and Vanessa has to fight back some choice words slipping from her lips as the wrap on her right hand keeps coming loose, the fabric slipping whenever she wiggles her fingers. 

“Alright, I’m gonna need a volunteer to help me demonstrate-Asia, look at you raising your hand so nicely.” Kameron’s grinning as she beckons to Asia, who’s sitting on the mats with a mock offended expression on her face, her mouth wide open.

“My hand is all the way down.” Asia crosses her arms, but Vanessa can see a small blush rising on her cheeks.

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “Should I ask someone else?” 

Asia pauses. “Nah.” She scrambles up, joining Kameron at the front of the class, and Vanessa can tell she’s satisfied. 

Vanessa’s not sure of the vibe she’s picking up between the two of them, but she’s intrigued. Way intrigued. Enough that she misses out on Kameron calling for the class to find partners, and she’s left by herself when Monique and Monet pair up and the rest of the attendees in the class find their own counterparts. 

Shit. 

“Who doesn’t have a partner?” The question is unnecessary, really, when Kameron zones in on Vanessa in a second, and it nearly makes her shrink back.

Vanessa feels like she’s the last one being picked for a team in gym class, the one that nobody wants in their group. This class isn’t really like that, she knows, what with three girls being nice to her already, but it’s hard not to feel like a fish out of water when everyone already knows each other. She fiddles with loose threads on the mat underneath her, tries to ignore the part of her that wants to disappear.

Kameron jogs over to the other side of the gym, and Vanessa cranes her neck to see where she’s going as she pokes her head into the makeshift office in the corner. “Hytes! Stop fiddling with Microsoft Excel and get over here.” 

Hytes? 

“The work isn’t gonna get done on it’s own, Kam.”

The familiar voice makes Vanessa draw in a breath, and she has to keep herself from shifting on the mat when the blonde walks out, the same one that Vanessa had met on her first visit to the gym, the one whose eyes are lighting up in recognition upon spotting Vanessa.

Except the girl can’t be looking at her. Can she?

“Vanessa, Brooke’s going to be your partner.” Kameron throws a haphazard arm around Brooke, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh when Brooke rolls her eyes. “Careful, though. She won’t go easy on you.” 

Brooke. So that’s her name.

“I don’t think she wants me to.” Brooke’s lip curls up in a smile as she gets closer, and Vanessa has to try hard, really, not to fidget. To stay cool.

Because she’s cool. Right?

“I won’t go easy on you either then, Miss Thing.” Vanessa sniffs.

Her bravado is going to get the best of her eventually, she knows that. But how’s Vanessa going to be the shit if she doesn’t convince herself of it first?

“We’re gonna do some simple drills today. Help drill them into all of your heads, if you will.” Kameron grins, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh at how proud she looks of her own joke.

“Booo.” Asia brings her gloved hands to her face, makes a faux microphone that she points towards Kameron, who rolls her eyes. 

Vanessa raises a brow, nudges Monet as Kameron explains their first few combinations. “Are they…?”

“Nope.” Monet shakes her head. “Not together. But Asia’s been taking the newbie level classes with us for ages despite taking the intermediate ones too, only because Kameron teaches both of them.”

“This is some juicy tea for my first day.” 

Monet grins. “Stay tuned, bitch.”

A _psst_ makes Vanessa spin in place, turn back towards Brooke who’s looking at her with a raised brow of her own. “Are you planning on trying these drills out today, or…?”

“Yeah. Totally am. See?” So maybe the words leave Vanessa’s mouth a little too eagerly as she bounces in place, but it doesn’t matter, because Brooke’s already holding her own gloves up, beckoning Vanessa closer.

Vanessa replays what Kameron had demonstrated earlier as she tries the movements out against Brooke’s gloves. “Jab, jab, cross-hey!”

Because Brooke blocks them, lands a light jab of her own and it’s not fair, it really isn’t, not when Vanessa had no idea it was coming.

“That’s not part of the drill!” 

“Nothing is in real life. Gotta be light on your feet, always on alert, Vanessa.” Brooke’s grinning, and Vanessa can already hear Monique and Monet cracking up behind them.

Vanessa has to resist the urge to pout, cross her arms - not that her gloves would even let her do so, anyway. 

“C’mon, try again.” Brooke holds her gloves up, and Vanessa is wary, because what’s Brooke going to do, now?

But Vanessa has never been one to back down from a challenge. So she goes for it, throws the first jab but counters with her opposite hand a step before she’s supposed to, raising her dominant hand to block her face. It’s enough to avoid Brooke’s jab, land one of her own, and sure, it’s not in the drills, but the look of surprise on Brooke’s face is satisfying, especially when Monique whoops from behind them.

“She’s a spicy one!” Monique nudges Monet as she says it, and Vanessa can’t help the shit-eating grin that grows on her face, even as Kameron walks over with a raised brow.

“We’re doing drills for a reason. No freestyling, not even from you, Hytes.” Kameron taps Brooke’s shoulder as she walks away, but Brooke’s eyes are lit up with something Vanessa can’t quite recognize.

Intrigue? Respect, maybe? Vanessa’s not sure. 

But she knows she’s definitely caught Brooke’s attention now, if she hadn’t done so already.

* * *

Vanessa’s arms are aching, her body covered in sweat and she feels like she’s going to collapse once she sits down, but...

She’s never felt more invigorated in her life. 

She wants to go back to the class, have another turn against Kameron’s punching gloves, maybe practice the combinations she’s just learned. She wants Brooke across from her again, looking at her with those eyes that she wants to unravel, get to know more. She wants to learn, she wants to get better and better, because whenever she starts something, she wants to build on it. Become an expert, become the best.

Of course, life isn’t that easy. Most of the time, when Vanessa starts something, she abandons it not too long after, because sticking with things is _hard_ and her attention likes to jump around, find a new target.

But something about channeling her energy for a reason, being strategic on purpose, had felt nice in the class. Sure, she’d felt like a damn fool as the other participants followed the combos with a practiced hand, a familiarity, while she’d initially stumbled through, but things are going to change. Vanessa feels it, because she wants to stay.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can jump from this bench to that one across the room.” 

“Better get your wallet out.”

Vanessa cracks an eye open, and Monique’s tentative look across the room as she stands on the bench makes her raise a brow. Monet looks entirely too pleased, and it’s not too hard to figure out that she’s set Monique up.

“How the fuck do you both still have any energy right now?” Vanessa doesn’t get it. She’s tired to the bone, heck, she’s probably never going to get up from the bench again.

“‘Cause I have to always prove her wrong, that’s why.” Monique sniffs, as Monet shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

Vanessa likes them. They’re the same brand of insane as she is and it’s almost as if she’s watching her very own sitcom, from the way the two of them bicker all the way to the showers. 

Vanessa kicks off her shoes, leaning herself back against the cool metal of the lockers and she can’t hold back the sigh that escapes her lips. It’s a wonder that the heat emanating from her skin isn’t visible steam because she feels like she’s on fire from the inside, like the sweat dripping from her brow, along her shoulder blades is never ending. She’s gonna need a long shower.

Pulling off her gloves makes her hands feel so much lighter, able to move. Vanessa opens and closes her fingers, makes a face at the sight of the wraps around her hands that have already begun to unravel, coil on the bench in a heap. She hadn’t exactly known how to fasten them properly before the class, not that she does now, either. 

Oh, well. She has time to improve.

“Your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off yet?” 

Brooke. Looking just as sweaty as Vanessa feels, as she tugs out the braids in her hair and sits down beside her. 

“No.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow. 

Brooke smiles. “Good. Bodes well for your next class then, doesn’t it?”

“What makes you think I’m coming back?”

Vanessa’s always entertained by people like Brooke. The ones who look put together, all calm and collected even though they can be anything but. She wants to see what makes Brooke tick, feel out her buttons. See if she can catch her interest, whether it be through annoyance or enjoyment. 

“Please.” Brooke snorts, looking Vanessa up and down, and it’s hard not to feel exposed. “I saw the way you were out there. You were having the time of your life, you can’t even deny it.”

“I was not.” 

She was. But Brooke doesn’t need to know that.

“I know you’ll be back.” Brooke winks, rises to her feet, and Vanessa has to try hard to keep her eyes on Brooke’s face, rather than let them drag down lower. “Girls like you always are.”

“Girls like me - hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa stands on her tiptoes, watches the way Brooke disappears towards the showers.

Brooke shrugs, raising an eyebrow before turning the corner, and Vanessa has never wanted to follow someone more. 

“See you around, Vanessa.”


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They make ones with velcro, y’know.” 
> 
> Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to when all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”
> 
> “I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-
> 
> “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello Christine, thank you all SO much for all the kind words about the first chapter. I'm so happy that you guys like it so far. Chapter two time, hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you times a million to writ for both betaing and being the best support system ever, I love you <3

“The bills-”

“Don’t say it-”

“The bills for the month are here.”

Brooke groans when Kameron hands her the envelopes, monthly reminders of the fact that the costs never end, that they’re scraping to keep the gym afloat. Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, the pipes aren’t supposed to fall apart and the windows aren’t supposed to need replacement and Brooke needs to keep the place alive.

Kameron lifts herself up onto the counter, giving Brooke the look that she always does when she wants to _talk._ “I know you don’t want to, but it may not be a bad idea to-”

“No.” Brooke doesn’t need Kameron to finish her sentence to know what she’s about to suggest. But she can’t do it.

“Imagine not just the money, but the publicity for the gym-”

“Absolutely not.” Brooke’s voice is flat, and it feels as if it’s reflecting the way she feels inside, the sudden blankness that never fails to overtake her when it comes to thinking about these scenarios. “I’m never competing again. You know that.”

“D’you really think he’d want that for you?” Kameron’s question makes Brooke wince because it’s a low blow, one she doesn’t really want to think about.

“Fuck off, Kam. Don’t you have a class to teach?”

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “It isn’t for another forty five minutes. You ever pay attention to the schedule?”

“I’m not one of the instructors.”

“Which is a shame, y’know. You’d be good at it.” Kameron hops off the counter, resting her face against her palm, and Brooke hums noncommittally, shrugging.

“Managing the administrative piece is enough for me.”

It’s strange, to Brooke, the way that her relationship with boxing has shifted. How one small little event has changed the course of her trajectory, of what she’d been planning on doing with her life. But taking a backseat, solely running the gym, is safe. It’s less of a reminder of what had happened even if she’s in this building every day, even if she’s reminded of her dad by every picture on the wall, each trophy on the shelves. 

Kameron’s words replay in her brain as she sits at her desk, figures out the payroll. She could easily hire someone and go back to fighting, to competitions - Kameron’s not wrong about the fact that it’ll bring in more money, more publicity, that the mere presence of her last name alone will be enough to boost talk about her. Maybe then she’d be able to give some badly needed upgrades to the gym, replace the broken mirror on the far wall or maybe get some new punching bags that don’t hold thirty years of practice and sweat. She wouldn’t have to worry about finances every month, about keeping the doors of the gym open-

But Brooke can’t.

She can’t. 

She sighs, rubbing her eyes before glancing up at the clock on the wall. The giant poster of her dad that hangs underneath it stares right back at her, and it’s hard, really, to try and ignore his influence when he’s quite literally imposing it on her the same way he did when he had been alive. 

What would her dad do, in a situation like this?

The answer comes easily to Brooke. He’d go back to fighting - in fact, he’d never leave, he’d participate in more and more matches the way he always would and then-

Well, Brooke knows the rest well enough. She’s not going to let that happen to her. 

Besides, the gym’s going to survive solely because her dad’s eventually going to come back as a ghost and keep the doors from ever closing. Brooke wouldn’t be surprised by it in the least.

She closes the open tabs one by one once she’s done her work, shutting the computer monitor off and leaning back in her chair with a sigh. Her brain feels like a jumble of numbers that she knows she’s going to have to go over at a later time, to make sure she hasn’t missed any mistakes. The ache in her neck and upper back from sitting at the desk the entire day doesn’t fade as she reaches back to massage her shoulders and roll out her neck. She’s not one for being sedentary all day, no matter how much she tries to convince herself of the fact to get through the workload. 

But one good part of owning a gym? She can peel herself out of her desk chair and leave her office, shaking off the cobwebs that are surely beginning to weave themselves onto her shoulders. And since Brooke has no qualms about coming to work in athleisure, she can get herself moving and sweating before she even has time to think about it.

It gives her the chance to clear her head, take one of the bags hanging in the back of the gym and just turn her brain off. Practicing her old drills against the heavy punching bag, getting the chance to relish in the recoil as it swings against the chains suspending it from the ceiling checks off an imaginary tick box in her brain, gives her a sense of satisfaction that not much else can. It allows her to give into the muscle memory that’s deeply rooted into her brain and almost feels like an instinct, an ingrained habit. 

She doesn’t have to worry about money, or about how she’s going to keep the gym going, or about how her mom really thinks _‘you should try talking to someone, honey,’_ or the fact that she still needs to get her car’s oil changed. None of it matters anymore, not when the adrenaline in her system is stronger than the impact of her knuckles against the bag, and the feeling of sweat dripping down her back.

If Brooke punches hard enough, it all goes away. If she hits a combination the way she’s supposed to, she can almost hear her dad on the other side of the punching bag telling her to do it again. She can go back to being in his shadow, still growing, still learning in anticipation of what’s to come. She doesn’t have to carry all of the responsibilities anymore. 

But then comes the part when Brooke pulls off her gloves and wipes the sweat that’s dripping from her forehead, unraveling the wraps around her hands to reveal her calloused knuckles. The adrenaline coursing through her body that keeps her from feeling any pain starts to fade as she takes a few breaths, catches herself, only to feel less stable than before. 

It’s hard, trying to soothe over a wound with the very instrument that caused it in the first place. It hasn’t worked for Brooke yet, though it doesn’t stop her from trying. 

* * *

“Rob! Stop smacking lips with Alexis and come outside already! You said you’d practice with me!” 

“Vanj, I’m gonna lock you outta this apartment if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Alexis’ growl isn’t enough to deter Vanessa, not when Rob’s at their place to practice drills with her and not to make out with his girlfriend, despite Alexis trying her best to distract him enough to do so. 

Vanessa snickers when Alexis and Rob reluctantly detach from one another. “This is your fault, Al, y’know. If you and Rob didn’t force me to take boxing classes I woulda never gotten into it and never wanted to get better and practice more-”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “And now you’re Rocky Balboa, we get it. If you get to take Rob outside will you shut up now?”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

Rob’s grinning as the two of them make their way down to the alleyway beside the apartment complex, an area that has proven to be an ample practice space over the last few weeks. “Now tell me. How much of this is you actually wanting to practice drills, and how much of it is you wanting to annoy the shit out of your sister?”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Rob before swiping at his gloves, ducking when he swipes back. “Guilty. Though it’s a shit ton of fun, and I wanna get better for real. How else will I whoop the asses of everyone else in the class?”

“Is that your motivation for everything in life?” Rob grunts when Vanessa puts a little bit more power into her jabs, watching as he recoils back slightly. “Is it because you’re the shortest and have something to prove- _ow!”_

Vanessa scowls before landing another combination against Rob’s gloves. “You deserved that one.”

But Rob’s right - maybe Vanessa does have something to prove. Not necessarily to the other girls in the class, but more to herself. She’s found something that she enjoys, something that she wants to work on. Something that’s made her punches at least 30 percent more effective. Boxing has made her want to go straight to the gym after work, rather than spend all her money at the bar while fruitlessly scrolling through tinder and feeling her twenties slip away from her in a haze of mediocrity. 

Maybe the sensation of becoming quicker on her feet, of being able to execute combinations that she’s never been able to do before, is making her drive grow more and more. Vanessa feels like she’s climbing more than she’s able to do in her job, experiencing a sense of growth that’s bigger than the tiny apartment that her and Alexis share so that they can afford the rent. It’s the feeling of accomplishment when everything else in her life feels like it’s at a standstill.

Well, a feeling of accomplishment in everything except one area of boxing.

“These stupid fucking wraps…” Vanessa grumbles to herself when the fabric unravels on her hand just as she’s about to pin it down, letting out a sigh before wrapping the cloth again. 

It’s been almost a month of boxing, and Vanessa still can never get the wraps to sit properly on her hands. They always shift and loosen underneath her gloves, feeling like more of a nuisance than any sort of protection. She needs to get Monet or Monique to show her exactly how to wrap them one of these days, before she does something stupid like throwing them out. 

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.” 

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to when all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

Brooke’s pulling Vanessa’s hands onto her lap and Vanessa’s brain doesn’t have any protests left anymore, not when Brooke’s deftly wrapping the fabric around her hands with a touch that’s firm but gentle. Brooke’s fingers glide over the fabric as she presses it down, smoothing it to Vanessa’s skin to protect her knuckles and palms from the impact that they’ll take once she’s out of the change room. 

Brooke’s face is calm as she works, a slight furrow in her brow as she pins the edge of the wrap on one hand to keep it steady. She grabs Vanessa’s other hand and repeats the process, until both of Vanessa’s hands are snug and protected and she’s not quite sure if she wants Brooke to let go of them anymore.

“There. Done.” 

Vanessa can feel the way her breath hitches in her chest, even through the normal action of trying to bring air into her lungs. Brooke gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go, and Vanessa brings them back onto her own lap while trying to maintain an air of suaveness that she’s not sure is truly believable.

“Thanks.” 

It comes out more sheepish than Vanessa intends it to, but it’s hard to come up with words when Brooke’s looking at her like _that,_ the knowing half smile on her face that somehow knows too much even though Vanessa’s barely said anything. 

Brooke grins. “Anytime. Now, don’t you have a class to get to?” 

It’s enough to break the imaginary ice because Vanessa rolls her eyes when Brooke cracks up, and suddenly it’s not hard to feel at ease with someone who laughs at her own jokes. She doesn’t miss the way Brooke’s eyes linger on her when she reaches the locker room door, turning back one last time.

“If I’m late, I’m telling Kameron it’s your fault.”

* * *

Brooke swings out of her office when Kameron gets her class started on their practice drills. The administration work can wait, because it’s more fun to watch the way the students attempt to bonk each other with the gloves that still are an unfamiliar armour around their fists.

“Monique and Monet haven’t argued yet about who throws a better punch, so I’m considering it a win.” Kameron points to the two girls in the back, and Brooke leans against the wall beside her, tilts her head as she watches. 

“These guys a good group?”

“Good as any beginner class.” Kameron shrugs. “They’ve all paid their registration fees and that alone makes them gold.”

Brooke ignores Kameron’s words, the ones that keep reminding her of the way the gym is teetering on a financial cliff that she doesn’t quite want to think about. “Tell me about her.”

Brooke knows that Kameron doesn’t even have to follow Brooke’s gaze to see that she’s talking about Vanessa. Really, how could she not, when Vanessa’s holding her gloves up to her face like it’s her job, just a tad too close but enough for Brooke to see that she’s been paying attention and practicing in class? Vanessa’s eyes are laser focused, narrowed as she hits up against her partner’s gloves and there’s just something about her that Brooke can’t pull away from, a magnetic force that she doesn’t quite understand just yet.

But it’s no matter. Brooke just likes how spunky, how unapologetic she is - someone refreshing enough not to walk on eggshells around her, to not be intimidated by her. Sure, maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t know her history or that of the gym but it’s...nice. To meet someone who volleys comebacks at her like it’s second nature. 

Vanessa throws a punch at the girl she’s partnered with, who lifts her gloves a second too late and ends up taking the hit. Vanessa lets out a _woo_ , both hands up in the air, before going close to the girl, putting a glove on her shoulder _(‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay?’)._

“Hello? Did you listen to anything I just said?” Kameron’s waving her hand in front of Brooke’s face and it makes her jump, pulling her attention away from Vanessa.

“What?” Brooke blinks, running a hand through her hair and trying not to let her gaze shift back to the way Vanessa’s already sparring again. “Repeat that.”

Kameron snorts. “You’re already smitten, aren’t you? She is your type, after all.” 

Brooke wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t have a type. Not that she dates much, anyway. “What’s my type?”

“Girls who make you this googly eyed, that’s what. A rare find.” Kameron snickers, nudging her shoulder. 

“Shut up.” Brooke rolls her eyes. “She’s just fun to watch.”

“And _that’s_ not a creepy thing to say at all.”

Brooke sticks her tongue out at Kameron, who looks a little too proud of herself. “Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“See, I _would_ be, if there wasn’t someone distracting me with conversation right at this very moment.” Kameron gives Brooke a little wave before going back to the class, already yelling about the next drills she wants them to practice.

Vanessa’s mimicking the moves Kameron does as she demonstrates for the class, as if trying to commit them to memory, and Brooke has to hold back a smile. The sight reminds Brooke of when she was younger, so eager and willing to learn and just wanting to be better. And honestly, after all the gym has been through, and as weary Brooke has gotten over the years? It’s refreshing. 

Kameron yells at the class to try the drills out on their own and Vanessa’s already bouncing in place, ready to go. Brooke watches as her eyes flit around before landing on hers, and doesn’t miss the way Vanessa pauses, a hitch in her step. Vanessa doesn’t pull her eyes away, tilts her head slightly as if in question, and Brooke can’t help but wink back. Especially when it makes Vanessa nearly miss the jab that her drill partner throws in her direction. 

Oops.

Brooke heads back to her office, because she really does need to call the electrician to fix the thermostats and she has to organize the schedule for next month’s classes, even though watching the beginner group get used to their boxing gloves is more entertaining than she wants to admit. The administrative part of owning a gym is menial - tasks that turn her brain off, ones that she could probably hire someone to do, but...she doesn’t mind them. It’s nice, having control over the little aspects of the gym. Making sure everything is running as it should be.

She’s absorbed in the excel spreadsheet in front of her and doesn’t even notice Vanessa in the doorway until there’s a knock on her desk that makes her jump. Vanessa sits down across from her, gloves slung across her shoulder but knuckles still wrapped, 5he light beads of sweat along her forehead and cheekbones and the way she’s still out of breath betraying the fact that the class has just ended. Vanessa slouches in the chair, lifting her leg onto her seat and Brooke can’t help but lean forward.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to check out your digs.” Vanessa’s eyes trail along the pictures on the wall, the awards that line the shelves and she whistles. “Damn. You win all these?” 

Brooke snorts. “No. Some of them. Definitely not all of them.”

Truth is, Brooke hasn’t known what to do with her dad’s old trophies and newspaper clippings and memorabilia. She can’t just throw it all away, because it would be wrong somehow and her dad would probably turn over in his grave and as much as it hurts to see...it wouldn’t be right to let it go. But having it all around her isn’t much better, she knows that. It’s become a mosaic of reminders of events that she wants to forget, banish from her mind even though it would feel sacrilegious to do so. 

So she just ignores all of it, pretending that it isn’t there. Even though it’s hard to do when Vanessa’s craning her neck up, pointing at the pictures that decorate the surfaces like wallpaper. 

“No way. Is that you? Six year old you had abs? What the fuck?” Vanessa’s out of her seat, squinting to read the caption on a picture from a newspaper article.

Brooke remembers when the picture had been taken. She had been competing in a tournament, one that her dad had coached her in and when she’d won, the reporters had wanted a picture of the two of them together. To show off the family legacy, as one would. Her dad had hoisted her on his shoulders and Brooke remembers the way she had felt a million feet tall. Unstoppable. Like all the matches she would ever have would be hers to win, and that she never ever wanted to stop fighting, not when the feeling of winning was so satisfying. 

She wonders what six year old Brooke would think of her now.

“You were cute as fuck.” Vanessa makes a little pouting face and Brooke can’t help but grin, roll her eyes. 

“Was, huh?”

“Don’t you go fishing for compliments, I see you.” Vanessa wiggles a finger at her and sits back down, leaning her elbows on Brooke’s desk. “Now what you up to here in this little office dungeon of yours?”

“It’s not a dungeon. It has plenty of natural light. Sort of.” Brooke can’t help but try to defend the place, even though Vanessa is right. It _is_ a little bit bleak. “Working on administrative stuff. Not quite that exciting.”

“You’re telling me this stuff is more fun than being out there, beating up a punching bag or two?” Vanessa makes a face as she looks at her, and Brooke shrugs.

“Nah. But I have to do it. So I do.” 

Vanessa blinks. “Man, my ADHD ass is hella jealous that you can just _do_ things. You ain’t gotta argue with your brain for an hour about it first?” 

“Sometimes, when it comes to the financial stuff. The math always gets me.” Thank goodness they hire an accountant when it comes to taxes. 

“Amen to that.” 

Vanessa leans back in her chair and Brooke closes the window on her computer, gathers all the papers on her desk because she’s not going to get much done anyway, not with Vanessa here. Instead, she turns her attention back to the girl in front of her. “So, how’s that beginner class treating you? Is boxing everything you thought it would be?” 

The way Vanessa’s face lights up is almost cute, as is the way she sits up in her seat. “It’s fun as hell. How’d I not know y’all were hiding this gym from me until recently?”

“Hiding, huh?”

“Anyway,” Vanessa airily waves a hand, “I like it. I wanna take more but there’s only two beginner classes a week. How am I supposed to get better with just two?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. Vanessa wants to take more? She’s already seen her around when they have open gym nights, and it’s true, Vanessa hasn’t really missed a beginner class since she’s started. Huh.

“Why are you sticking to beginner classes? Don’t think you can handle an intermediate one?”

Vanessa’s reaction is exactly what Brooke anticipates it to be. “Can’t handle-bitch, I’ll show you handling.” Vanessa lets out a grumble as she crosses her arms, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh.

“Try one. I think you’ll be able to hold your own.”

* * *

Vanessa can’t stop herself from following Brooke’s advice. She starts attending the intermediate classes, spars with girls who have been taking boxing for years and yes, sometimes she gets her ass kicked when they catch her off guard or are too fast, but-

There’s times where she doesn’t. Times where she’s able to execute a combination perfectly, times where she’s able to get a win or two or three and the feeling is absolutely addictive. Winning. Having Kameron look at her with an impressed expression and having her opponents give her reluctant nods. 

She notices the way her arms and legs get firmer to the touch, the way the faintest hint of abs begin to peek underneath the soft layer of her shirt. The way braiding her hair back takes less than thirty seconds now, because the faster she’s able to do so, the faster she can get out on the floor.

Silky and A’keria notice one early morning, when they’re in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors at a shoot that’s going to be paying them well. Vanessa’s trying to focus, she really is, on the strange combination of purple and green that she’s supposed to follow for the model’s makeup, despite the fact that it’s a little too reminiscent of Barney. She rolls her neck once she finishes the model’s cut crease, stretching her arms up to loosen the way her muscles have tensed.

Silky makes eye contact with her as she does, letting out a little whistle. “Damn, Vanj. Since when are you ripped as fuck?”

“What?” Vanessa’s brows furrow until Silky points at her shirt, which has slightly risen up from stretching her arms. She tugs it back down, her cheeks reddening, and busies herself with blending her model’s shadow and hoping she hasn’t noticed. 

“It’s cause you always be at that gym.” A’keria tuts, waving her mascara wand. “You ain’t even coming out with us these days.”

“Hey! I came out last Friday.” Vanessa protests, because it’s true. She did. So maybe she went home by 10:30 so that she could get enough sleep before going to open gym hours the next morning, but that’s beside the point. “You guys should try it. You’d like boxing, too. I feel so good these days.”

Vanessa really does. Like Yoda, or some shit. All that she wants to do is go to the gym and train and maybe it’s a bit of a shift from how she’d been about six or so months ago, but it’s fun. Maybe A’keria and Silky would enjoy it, too.”

Except Silky just gives her a look. “You think my ass would ever willingly go in there? What I enjoy personally is going to my couch and watching _90 Day Fiance._ ‘Cause I have taste.” 

“I prefer my yoga, sorry Vanj.” A’keria shrugs. “That being said, your ass is definitely calmer. You haven’t lost your shit at anyone in ages.”

Vanessa pauses. While A’keria’s statement isn’t exactly true, since she’d gotten into an argument with Alexis this morning about their shared conditioner in the shower, the fact that her ass hasn’t had to be bailed out from the local station in a while is...nice. Even if Rob’s usually the one that books her after one too many bar fights.

“Does boxing teach you to talk about your feelings?” Silky snickers as she sprays setting spray across her client’s face, and Vanessa scowls.

“Want me to break my streak, Silk?”

“Geez, relax.” Silky sticks her tongue out at her. “Big Silk is proud of you for it, y’know.”

“Hmph.” Vanessa tries not to smile as she turns her attention back to her model. “Whatever.”

It’s something that sticks in Vanessa’s mind as her workday ends though, as she grabs her gym bag and heads out for the evening. It’s not that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she used to, because she definitely does. Sometimes things get so overwhelming that all she wants to do is snap and let out the extra energy that feels like it’s building and building and building but...she can’t do it when she fights in the gym. She has to hold back, only throw a punch when necessary and be strategic about it for the strongest impact. And it feels like that strategy has shifted over to other parts of her life, too.

It isn’t her first instinct anymore just to go off on someone. She’s better at holding back, at waiting even when she wants to burst, and she supposes that it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Maybe Alexis had been onto something all those months ago. 

The change room is rowdy when Vanessa finally reaches the gym, changing into her sports bra and leggings like it’s second nature. Monet and Monique are spread out on the ground, lying across from one another and attempting to arm wrestle, and Vanessa shoots a questioning look to Asia, who only shrugs.

“What can I even say at this point?” Asia grabs her water bottle, heads out the door. “See you out there, Vanj.”

Vanessa braids her hair to the sounds of Monet and Monique arguing about arm wrestling techniques and she’s glad, really, that her friends have moved up to take the intermediate classes, too. It makes it fun, and even more so satisfying when she beats one of them while sparring. 

It’s nice. Vanessa’s steadily gaining a community around her, and it’s one that she doesn’t want to lose anytime soon. 

Kameron’s face is excited when the class comes to an end, when gloves are coming off and water bottles are being picked up for some much needed swigs. Vanessa watches as she grabs a flyer, holding it up for the class to see like a flag.

“You guys think you can hold your own against a bunch of bitches who aren’t from this gym?” Kameron cocks her head, her eyes trailing across the group. 

Vanessa can’t help the way she stands on her tiptoes, trying her best to take a peek at the flyer. She’s a bit too far back and is about to poke Monet’s side to ask her to read it out loud, but there’s no need, because Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym before she even has to.

“We’re joining a tournament. Or rather, you guys are. Not much at stake except the entire reputation of our gym and it’s extensive legacy. That’s all.” Kameron snickers, before shaking her head. “I’m playing. But signup sheets are going to be posted on the change room doors for a week, so think about it if you’re interested.”

Vanessa tries her best not to fidget much until the class is over and they’re given the okay to head for the change rooms, and then she can’t hold herself back anymore from wrapping her arms around Monet and Monique’s shoulders.

“So are you guys gonna do it?” Vanessa undoes her wraps, wiggles her fingers, and even though she’s just sparred for an hour and a half, she feels more energetic than ever. 

A tournament. Not just sparring in class with her friends, but a real boxing tournament.

“What, the competition?” Asia hums noncommittally, shrugging. “Thinking about it.” 

“Come on! It sounds so fun.” Monique sits down beside Vanessa, sticks her leg out to trip Monet as she walks by, and the resulting explosion of swear words from Monet makes Vanessa crack up. 

“I’m saying!” Vanessa nods. “We could go and fuck some shit up with people from other gyms.”

“What makes you think that it’s going to be your ass doing the beating, and not getting beat?” Monet snickers, and Vanessa gives her a look.

“Are you forgetting I just won a match against you twenty minutes ago? That memory of yours really has turned to shit with that many hits to the head.” Vanessa volleys back, and Asia and Monique let out twin cackles.

Vanessa’s mind is made up as she catches the subway home, the ache in her muscles from the class not nearly strong enough to dull the possibilities and excitement already beginning to grow in her brain. Sure, she’s never boxed in a competition setting, but why not?

Maybe Brooke will be there to watch the tournament, too.


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up at seven-thirty in the morning on a Saturday is criminal, practically criminal, but Vanessa can’t help the spring in her step as she hops in the shower, makes herself breakfast. 
> 
> Because the flyer on her kitchen table as Vanessa eats her eggs and avocado toast reminds her that the tournament is today, as if she’ll even be able to forget. Today, she gets to haul ass to the other side of town to a rival boxing gym and respectfully beat the crap out of some opponents.
> 
> Well, not quite. But if Vanessa doesn’t win at least one match today, she’s going to be disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for the sweet support on this fic! Every review makes me so happy, and I appreciate reading what you think more than you all. Let me know your thoughts on this one, too. Thank you writ as usual for betaing, I love you <33

“Sugar?”

“Thanks, mom.” 

Brooke stirs a spoonful of sugar into her tea, grabbing a scone from the pile in the middle of the table, still warm from the oven that her mom had pulled them from twenty minutes ago.

“Figured we can do the garage first and then do the closet. Thanks again for coming over, dear.” Brooke’s mom reaches out, squeezes her hand, and Brooke shrugs.

“No worries. Could have a worse Sunday afternoon.”

Brooke’s mom had asked her to come over, help clean out the belongings that have piled up in her childhood home after decades of memories and existing and living. She’s not sure why her mom is choosing now to hold a yard sale, to empty out the boxes and shelves collecting dust, but maybe it’ll be nice, to look back at old items that used to mean so much decades ago.

The dustiness of the attic makes Brooke sneeze, and it reminds her of when she’d play hide and seek with her siblings as a kid and she’d always hide out in the attic, since it would end up being the last place that anyone would ever look. She’d been betrayed by a wayward sneeze more than once as a kid, her hiding spot among the old furniture not concealed for very long.

Brooke trails her fingers along the old arts and crafts supplies, the boxes of Christmas decorations, a hat that used to belong to her older sister. It’s strange, in a way - a capsule from a time that now feels so far away but is still so vivid, snapshots in her memories that she can almost pretend she’s still experiencing right now. 

Brooke’s mom holds up a puzzle of a group of sled dogs running in the snow. “Remember when you threw a fit when you made this with Joanne, because you thought she was deliberately hiding the last piece from you?” 

“She was looking a bit shifty! Besides, I was seven.” Brooke gives her mom a sheepish smile. “We can add that one to the garage sale pile.”

Sorting through the old Christmas ornaments and books and cutlery is soothing, almost, as the pile of items for the yard sale grows higher and higher and higher. Brooke almost wants to go home after this and do the same to her apartment - Marie Kondo it a little, get rid of whatever she really doesn’t need anymore, though it’s going to be more difficult with stuff that actually belongs to her.

“I really should throw these out.” Brooke’s mom holds up a box and looks over in question, craning her neck to peek inside and-

Wait. 

“But - but those are dad’s.” Brooke feels herself sputter on her words but how can she not, when Brooke’s mom is holding up old boxing gloves, gym club sweaters that her dad used to wear all the time? “What do you mean you want to throw them out?”

She can’t. Not her dad’s things, not when they hold so much and why does her mom want to throw them out, anyway?

“They’re just taking up space up here in the attic, Brooke.” Brooke’s mom shrugs, shifts the box out of the way as if the contents have no meaning, as if the box doesn’t still slightly smell like her dad’s cologne. “This box hasn’t been touched since it was first put up here.”

Brooke crosses her arms. “So what?” 

It doesn’t matter - just because the box has been left alone doesn’t mean it still shouldn’t be. Brooke’s mom has already cleaned out her dad’s side of their closet, and replaced the old armchair that he used to sit on for a newer one that isn’t as rickety. It almost feels like Brooke’s mom is ready to forget about him, to erase him from their memories and experiences and move on, and Brooke can’t do it. She can’t. 

Not like this.

Brooke reaches for the box, brings it closer to where she’s sitting, and her mother sighs. “If it bothers you so much, you can take it back to your apartment. Keep it with you.”

“Fine.” Brooke draws a breath in, but somehow the relief that she normally gets from the oxygen in her lungs doesn’t arrive.

So she’s kind of won. Her dad’s remaining things won’t be put up for sale or thrown out, because she gets to keep them, but...shouldn’t her mom want to keep his things, too? Hold onto a little piece or two of him?

Doesn’t her mom want those memories?

Brooke feels like memories of her dad in her mind are fleeting, some that get more and more faint by the day, less vivid than when they were originally made. Disappearing into her subconscious never to reappear again, just like him. 

But she’s trying. Trying to hold on to what she can, what she can remember, when it hasn’t even been that long since he’s passed. Certainly not long enough to erase his presence from her childhood home and pretend that he didn’t exist. 

She hates it. Hates that she feels like she’s the only one who still cares a little bit.

Her mom’s moving on. Her sister’s wrapped up in her kids and her brother’s obsessed with his girlfriend. They’re all living and going on and Brooke doesn’t know if they’re the ones in the right, or if she is. 

Is there even a right answer at all? Aside from her dad somehow coming back?

Brooke takes out a sweater emblazoned with _Hytes’ Boxing_ on the back once she gets home, pulling it on. The faint smell of tobacco still lingers, the sleeves of the leather frayed but she pulls it around herself tighter. If she closes her eyes, she can picture herself as a kid again, coming home from one of her dad’s fights and sitting in the backseat with the jacket spread over her like a blanket.

If she squeezes her eyes tight enough, he’s still here, and she doesn’t have to move on like everyone else.

* * *

Vanessa’s eyes snap open ten minutes earlier than her phone alarm is set to ring, and so she turns it off before the Megan Thee Stallion song can blare around her room. Waking up at seven-thirty in the morning on a Saturday is criminal, practically criminal, but Vanessa can’t help the spring in her step as she hops in the shower, makes herself breakfast. 

Because the flyer on her kitchen table as Vanessa eats her eggs and avocado toast reminds her that the tournament is today, as if she’ll even be able to forget. Today, she gets to haul ass to the other side of town to a rival boxing gym and respectfully beat the crap out of some opponents.

Well, not quite. But if Vanessa doesn’t win at least one match today, she’s going to be disappointed.

Vanessa’s phone rings as she’s packing up her gym bag, and her mom’s voice is loud on the other end of the line when she puts it on speaker. 

_“You’re actually awake right now? Wouldn’t have expected that.”_

Vanessa snorts as she packs some protein bars in her bag, on top of her equipment. “Why’d you call me so early if you didn’t think I’d be awake?”

_“‘Cause I’m up, I got things to do. It’s Saturday, which means-”_

“Your Saturday morning clean, yes I know. As always.”

It’s almost too easy for Vanessa to recall her teenage years, when her mother would burst into her room at seven in the morning with the vacuum running, all while complaining about everything spread out on the floor. Her mom would get her to join in on the cleaning before she’d even be fully awake, which, in a way, made it go by faster.

Though that’s not to say that Vanessa doesn’t enjoy not living with her mom anymore, as an adult. Now, she can actually sleep in on Saturdays if she wants to.

_“I’m calling ‘cause your father won’t stop messaging me again, and if I get another Whatsapp message from him I’m gonna lose it.”_

Vanessa frowns. “So? Don’t respond. He doesn’t deserve it.”

_“It’s about you.”_

“What?” Vanessa pauses as she’s locking the apartment. What does her dad want from her, anyway?

 _“It sounds like he’s having a crisis about turning fifty. Wants to reconnect with his ‘family,’ as he calls it.”_ Vanessa’s mom makes a gagging noise on the other end of the phone, and Vanessa can’t hold back a snort at that, despite the way her heart is turning in her chest.

“He can go connect with his girlfriend. Which one is he on now, anyway? Is it another one that’s my age? Or younger than me this time?” Vanessa takes the stairs two steps at a time, because the elevator right now would be too stuffy, anyway. 

_“Don’t go preaching to the choir, I get it, baby. Apparently he’s been messaging Alexis, but can’t reach you.”_

“Yeah, ‘cause I blocked him on everything. I don’t want to talk to him.” Vanessa scowls, despite the fact that her mom can’t see on the other end of the line. “Of fucking course Alexis responded to him.”

_“She’s allowed to do what she wants just like you, y’know.”_

“If he wanted to talk to us, he coulda done it when we were kids and not cheated and left to go to Miami with a new girlfriend. He’s lost his chance.” Vanessa leans against the building wall across the subway station, not yet ready to go in just yet and lose cell service. 

Vanessa remembers being eight and waiting and waiting for her dad to come to her birthday party like he promised, for him to drop by every Christmas. But he never did, never even sent cards and sometimes he’d call weeks later because of course he’d miss all the important days.

All Vanessa needs is her mom and her sister. She doesn’t need a dad who’s always looking for something better for himself, so willing to drop the important people in his life as if they don’t matter. Her mom’s been the one who’s shown up to all her graduations, celebrated birthdays and holidays and been her shoulder to cry on over the years. 

So fuck him.

Vanessa doesn’t need her dad, and she doesn’t give a shit anymore if he needs her now.

Vanessa’s stewing as she climbs down the steps to the subway station, especially when all she wants to do is take out her frustrations while sparring, even though she knows it’s not a real solution. But Asia’s waiting past the ticket booth, a grin on her face, and Vanessa can’t help but smile back. 

Vanessa hadn’t known that Asia lives near the same subway station as her for months, until they had ended up on the same subway car after class and had nearly missed their stop after talking so much. But it’s nice, because she gets to transit home with Asia sometimes after their classes, and now gets to take the subway with her to the tournament.

“Why’s your bag so full?” Vanessa pokes Asia’s gym bag, tilts her head at the way the zipper looks like it’s about to explode.

“Had to bring all my school shit. I got an assignment due on Monday that I haven’t started yet.” Asia makes a face. “And it’s supposed to be twenty pages long.”

Vanessa winces. “Yikes. So you bringing it to the tournament? Gonna take your gloves off in between matches to write?”

“Something like that.” Asia shrugs, patting her bag. “Or at least I can say that I tried.”

“I dunno how you do it, honestly. Balancing school and work and now boxing.” 

Vanessa really doesn’t. Business school seems like a lot, from the way that Asia is always muttering about assignments or coming straight from lectures. It’s not that Vanessa doesn’t think she could hack it, because she probably could. It’s just that she doesn’t know if she’d ever want to.

Trying to focus her mind during lectures and getting assignments done never really came easy to her. Vanessa feels so much better on her feet - working, moving around, getting shit done rather than passively sitting and listening to others talk.

It’s why Vanessa doesn’t really mind her job. Working as a makeup artist is what she’d wanted as a kid - and now she gets to do it on sets. She’s on her feet, she’s making people over and getting paid for it. She gets to do it with two women who have become her best friends, and still has enough energy left over after a workday to go box.

Even though her mom will never forgive her for not applying for nursing school, Vanessa’s not mad about it. Especially when friends like Asia are actually interested in her makeup looks - she’s not sure if they’d care the same way about shit like IV lines that her mom comes home talking about.

“You’re so good, girl. You should post this shit on Instagram.” Asia has Vanessa’s phone in her hand, scrolling through her camera roll. 

Vanessa has a habit of taking pictures of her looks as she finishes them, even if they won't be seen by anyone else. She’s not sure if she’d want people to, really.

“Nah.” Vanessa shrugs. “Who’d care? There’s so many wannabe makeup accounts anyway. I don’t wanna add to that shit.” 

“Couldn’t it get you more clients?” Asia hands Vanessa her phone back as they reach their stop, get off the train. 

“That’s what Silky and A’keria say. But I dunno.”

Putting her work out there like the two of them have done so feels weird to Vanessa. A little too exposing, asking for critiques from people that Vanessa doesn’t even want to hear from. She has enough business through word of mouth for now, anyway. 

Vanessa’s still mulling the idea over when Asia stops walking and nudges her side insistently, making her yelp. “ _Ow_ , bitch, what?”

Asia points at the building in front of them, and Vanessa has to crane her neck to look at the banners hanging on the walls, the sports - well, _boxing_ \- action shots and open doors with people bustling in and out. The place looks like it’s the size of the movie theatre across from the bodega in Vanessa’s neighbourhood, but as they enter, pass the sheer amount of people in gear and matches that have already started, it’s clear to see that the place is a show of its own. 

“Name and gym?” The purple-haired girl sitting at one of the registration tables is falling asleep from boredom, if the way she’s popping her gum as she checks off Vanessa’s name is any indication.

“Shit. This place is fucking huge.” Vanessa grabs onto Asia’s gym bag as they weave through the crowds, necks craned in search of any familiar faces. 

“There!” Asia points at the red hair by the water fountains, and Kameron’s tattoos and eternally beat mug come into view the closer that they get to their gym’s huddle.

Kameron gives the two of them a little wave, one that Vanessa returns until Monique rests an elbow on her shoulder. “About time. Were the two of you on a snail’s pace, or what?”

Asia rolls her eyes. “The tournament doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.”

“And?” Kameron raises her brow, though it melts into a smile soon enough. “I’m just fucking with you. Go get changed.”

Pulling on her shorts and tank and braiding her hair back makes the blood in Vanessa’s veins run faster, the anticipation building more and more. She has to crane her neck to look around at the different matches going on around the large, warehouse sized room, the judges sitting to the sides of each match ever so poised, a sharp contrast from the competitors on the floor with their mouthguards and fists that guard their sweat soaked faces. Monet’s begun a match on the far side of the room, and Vanessa stands on her tiptoes, letting out a whoop before Kameron snaps her fingers in front of her face.

“What time is your first match?”

Vanessa pulls out the already crumpled sheet that she’d been given at registration, smoothing it out with her fingers. “9:30.”

It’s only twenty minutes away, and Vanessa can’t help but fidget in place with excitement. She can’t wait.

“Better get your gloves on then, eager beaver.” Kameron taps her knuckles, and Vanessa huffs.

“Who the fuck even says that?”

Vanessa weaves through the crowds, her gloves and wraps slung over her shoulder as she double checks her sheet, attempting to find the ring where she’s going to fight. She’d clocked in as a flyweight when originally signing up for the tournament one day before class, leading to many a teasing from Monet and Monique for being the smallest in the group. Not that Vanessa’s actually _that_ small. She can hold her own pretty well, and had shown Monet and Monique just that later in class. 

Vanessa takes a seat beside a girl with pink hair who looks like she’s about to throw up, giving her a little wave. “Vanessa.”

The girl sticks a hand out, though she already has her gloves on, and lets out a little nervous laugh before pulling her hand back. “Farrah. Have you ever done these before? Because I haven’t, and I’m _so_ nervous, what if I get hurt? What if my highlighter gets smudged? It was so expensive!”

Vanessa holds back a laugh. “Do you normally wear a full face of makeup to your classes, too?”

“Maybe.” The girl’s lips push into a slight pout. 

Vanessa pats her arm. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just duck out of the way and shit.”

Prime advice, but Vanessa doesn’t have time to counsel the girl anyway, not when she has to get her wraps on before the current match ends. The fabric slips on her palms as it always does, and Vanessa lets out a string of curses under her breath. She never can get the wraps right on her own.

The memory of Brooke’s hands on her own floats into her mind as she attempts to pin the fabric down, tongue sticking out, and Vanessa feels heat grow along her cheeks in a way that is unrelated to the temperature of the room. She shouldn’t be thinking about Brooke right now, or the fact that Brooke somehow managed to pin them perfectly. 

That being said, where’s Brooke? Vanessa cranes her head, tries to pick out the familiar head of blonde - maybe she’s beside Kameron, or maybe she’s watching one of the matches - but no luck. 

The wave of disappointment she has to quell in her chest is not significant. Not when she’s getting her gloves on, not when one of the judges is gesturing to her, not when she’s up against the girl with pink hair who looks like she’s about to faint. 

Because it’s go time.

* * *

There’s a new bruise blooming on Vanessa’s cheek, her legs feel like they’re going to give out as she and Asia wait for the subway, and maybe she’s about to drop the giant trophy tucked under her arms, but Vanessa feels like she has enough energy to fly home. 

Who needs public transit, anyway? After Vanessa’s gone and won her weight class?

She’s done it. She’s sore as fuck and needs a long, long shower when she gets home, but she’d beaten Farrah and a girl with all pink boxing gear, including her mouthguard, and some Von Odd girl who threw quite a left hook, and a bald girl who almost beat her in the final round, except that Vanessa had been faster.

Vanessa’s won every single one of her matches. She’s got a trophy to show for it, maybe one that she can stick up on a shelf in her room somewhere. She’d landed hits that had made the judges nod with impressed smiles, and caused her friends to break into cheers on the sidelines as they watched once their own matches were over. 

Sure, a trophy from a novice boxing tournament isn’t much, in the grand scheme of things. But it’s an accomplishment. It’s hers. It had made Kameron wrap her in a bear hug and let out a squeal that seemed not so fitting from a muscled, built woman, and the feeling of success is making Vanessa want more. 

And not just the success, either. The way the adrenaline had pumped in her veins, the way everything else around her had become blurry, save for her competitor in front of her. The way landing her combinations had felt like an art - taking what she’d learned in class and manipulating it just so, enough to fit in the moment and execute them in a way that felt right. How her ears would ring once a round would end, and the sole sip of water she’d take would be enough to help her keep going for the next one. The way her heart would still be racing after a match, but not because she’d be out of breath, but rather because she’d want to keep going.

Vanessa’s not even off the subway before coming to the realization that she needs to compete again. She has to, when it makes her feel like her brain is clearer than it’s been in awhile, but also sated from what she’d done today. 

She’s happy. 

The giddiness carries her into the next boxing class half a day later, where Monet and Monique and Asia are sprawled out on the change room benches as everyone else gets ready around them. 

“Look who it is! Miss Champion of the flyweights, herself.” Monet lets out a whoop, and Vanessa can’t help the way her face breaks into a smile in delight.

“The strongest little fly. So proud.” Monique pretends to wipe a tear and Vanessa scowls, reaching over to shove her.

“I’m not little!”

“And I’m not currently wearing all purple. Except that I am.” Monique reaches out to pat the top of Vanessa’s head.

Vanessa crosses her legs on the bench, pouting, pulling her bag up beside her. “So hateful.” 

She can’t frown for long though, as they get ready and head out to the gym for class. Vanessa pauses when they pass Brooke’s office, because the light is on and Brooke is perusing some files on her desk and she’s not going to be late for class, really, if she stops and talks to Brooke for five minutes, is she?

Brooke gives her a small smile as she sits down in one of the chairs across from her desk, dropping the papers that she’d been rifling through. “You’re in a good mood.”

Vanessa has to resist the urge to wiggle in her chair, but she can’t stop herself from tapping her fingers on the desk. “I whooped ass in my first tournament.”

It’s not bragging if it’s true, right?

“Oh.” Brooke raises a brow, goes back to fiddling with her papers. “Good for you.”

Vanessa feels her own brows furrow, because one second Brooke had been smiling at her, but now, she’s looking closed off. Disinterested. More focused on whatever boring shit she has in front of her. 

“What?” Vanessa crosses her arms, leaning forward in her seat slightly. “I was just happy about it. Wanted to tell you since you’ve been here since I first started.”

Brooke shrugs. “And you did. And I’m saying good for you.” She turns around, reaching to grab something in a cabinet behind her, and Vanessa narrows her eyes.

She doesn’t know what she’s missing, but it’s enough to make her feel a _little_ pissed off. “Real nice to see you there, too. Do you always go out and support your athletes when they compete?”

Brooke whips her head up, her eyes flashing and Vanessa feels like she’s maybe peed a little in her seat, from the way Brooke’s look makes a chill wash over her. “Do I look like a coach?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Don’t go poking your head where it doesn’t belong, especially when it comes to me. There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

Well, that’s a _fuck off_ if Vanessa’s ever heard one.

Except that now Vanessa’s curious, despite the way she wants to argue and go off and do everything _but_ bite her tongue. But that’s not going to get her any more information. Or gossip. The reason Brooke’s last name adorns the gym even though she doesn’t fight.

And so she opens up a new browser window once she’s showered after class and comfy in bed, the aches in her limbs pleasant and pulling her down into the mattress. 

_“Brooke Lynn Hytes”_

Sure, a Google search is a little rudimentary, but it’s helpful enough, by the pictures and articles and videos that pop up of Brooke giving interviews, Brooke holding up trophies, _Brooke fighting._

So Brooke used to box. _Actually_ box, from the pictures upon pictures of her on Google Images with her fists raised in victory, of her holding up belts and trophies and medals and plenty of action shots, too, somehow looking even more jacked than she is now.

Holy shit.

Vanessa goes back to the articles, scrolling past the ones with match results and the ones profiling her wins and accomplishments as her eyes widen a little with each headline.

Brooke didn’t just box, according to her Wikipedia page (because of _course_ Brooke has a Wikipedia page). Brooke used to box professionally. Brooke competed in leagues and won prize money and used to be on TV and had an actual fanbase. 

But what happened to her? What made her stop?

Vanessa scrolls a little further down Brooke’s wikipedia page, pausing upon the words _‘Present and Retirement’._ Bingo.

“Hytes announced that she was stepping away from the professional circuit shortly after John Hytes’ fatal injury, stating that she needed time to be with her family…” Vanessa trails off as she reads, hovering her cursor over the name _John Hytes._ “Oh, shit.”

Whoever John Hytes is has his own Wikipedia page, too. Brooke’s dad? Uncle?

His page looks similar to Brooke’s. Accomplishment after accomplishment, action shot after action shot. Vanessa squints her eyes as they travel along the page, looking for anything relevant-

_Daughter - Brooke Lynn Hytes_

So this guy had been Brooke’s dad. A boxer himself. Someone who’d passed away five years ago, unless Vanessa’s getting some simple elementary school level math wrong with the dates.

Vanessa keeps scrolling until she reaches a header that makes her want to wince. 

_Death and Legacy_

Shit.

A fatal hit to the head, from the looks of it. There’s a picture from the match but Vanessa doesn’t want to look - doesn’t feel right, somehow.

Brooke’s dad had died while boxing in a televised professional match, where he’d tried to keep going before keeling over and never opening his eyes again. There’s words that follow about a televised funeral and about scholarship funds set up in his name but Vanessa closes the window, closes her laptop altogether as she rolls over in bed and stares up at the ceiling. 

No wonder Brooke doesn’t teach, doesn’t fight, even if the way she beats up a punching bag on her own is enough to nearly rip the chains from the ceiling. It makes sense why Brooke had shut down the conversation when Vanessa had brought up a competition, even a novice one. It’s why there are so many trophies, so many accolades in Brooke’s office. Why her last name is on the gym’s walls.

Damn. Vanessa had no idea until now that she trains at a gym with a legacy. Mostly because she can’t ever keep still enough to read the articles in Brooke’s office for more than a few seconds in the first place. 

The minutes on the clock on her bedside table continue to pass, the numbers reaching later and later and Vanessa’s got to sleep, she knows that, but it’s hard when all she can see in her mind is a replay of the videos of Brooke fighting, Brooke hugging her dad. Brooke looking so happy and young and cheerful and like she’s on top of the world, with no idea how hard she’s about to fall. Vanessa wants to go back in time and warn her, almost.

But she supposes she can just bring Brooke some cookies as a peace offering next class, instead. At least, that’s what Alexis does with Rob whenever they fight.


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa shrugs, but there’s a smile on her face, a light in her eyes. “How ‘bout you share these donut holes with me, then? Dibs on the jelly filled.” She reaches in, pops one in her mouth, and Brooke feels the way her own mouth pulls into a smile without even meaning to.
> 
> “I’m more of a chocolate glazed girl, myself.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support on this fic. It makes me so happy, and honestly just makes me want to write even more. I'm so glad it's being enjoyed so far, and hopefully this chapter will be as well. Let me know what you think! Thank you writ as always for betaing, ily <33

There are more similarities between running and boxing than one would expect.

The way that Brooke’s feet hit the pavement and take her farther and farther, more than she expects herself to be able to go is just like the way she’d push herself in matches to land one extra hit, to keep fighting for a little bit more. Or the way that Brooke’s body feels lighter, freer when she gets into the zone, where the way her lungs burn and her legs are lead suddenly doesn’t matter anymore, because she doesn’t feel it. It matches the way she’d feel in the ring, where her body would be one step ahead of her mind, already knowing what to do without her having to think about it. The way that sweat drips down her temples and back in exactly the same way as she tries to remain light on her feet, not giving into the heaviness that’s always present, threatening to pull her body down. 

And when she cools down, when her lungs pull in the air that they’ve been craving and her brain starts to come back into itself as she walks, it reminds her of that post match adrenaline that used to linger as she’d slowly become more aware of her surroundings, and out of the fight or flight mindset that would lead her to the win. Running isn’t exactly the same, but it’s close enough, because it pushes her a little bit past the level that she can handle, makes her go for more, just the way that boxing did. 

But running is different too, because Brooke’s not confined to a ring anymore, but rather gets to explore the streets lining the city, past taxis and cyclists and pedestrians and honking cars that are just a little too loud. Running also lets her follow new routes - well, sort of, because she always ends her cooldowns in the same place every time.

The bell that clinks when Brooke pushes open the door to Nina’s Diner always makes Brooke grin, because it parallels the bright and airiness of the restaurant inside. The soft pastel colours, the little booths, the cheery music overhead. Nina herself, who waves from the table that she’s currently serving before waltzing over to the booth that Brooke’s taken a seat in with a grin.

“Is today the day you’re gonna order the pancakes?” Nina holds out a menu, twirling it in her fingers, and Brooke can’t help out but let out a little laugh.

“I admire your dedication to your cause, I really do. Not today, though.” Brooke points to the yogurt parfait on the very back of the menu in front of her, and Nina’s resulting pout is almost enough to make her change her mind. Almost.

“C’mon! They’re so good, I promise. They fill you up and make you all warm inside and happy too.” Nina points to the picture on the menu. The pancakes with ice cream on the side and chocolate chips on the dish do look good, they really do.

“If I have one of those right now after just exercising, I think I’m gonna puke.” Brooke shrugs her shoulders, but reaches out, pats Nina’s hand. “Guess I’ll have to come by at another time in the day then, won’t I?”

Nina lightly swats her shoulder with the menu. “You always say that, and I’ve yet to see it. Never hurts to leave your sweaty gym, y’know.” 

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Brooke gives her a look, but can only hold her serious face for so long, before the two of them crack up. “How’s business, Nina?” 

“Not bad.” Nina peeks around the tables surreptitiously, making sure that no one needs her, before sliding onto the seats across from Brooke. “The summer season always helps. Especially now that we’ve started making those giant milkshakes.”

Nina tilts her head towards a table behind them, and Brooke’s eyebrows raise at the giant chocolate milkshake in front of the two patrons, filled to the brim and topped with sprinkles, more ice cream, and even a mini donut. 

“Serious question. Has anyone ever overdosed on sugar in your diner? Because I feel like that may happen sometime soon.” 

Brooke’s deadpan tone makes Nina crack up, let out a little snort. “It’s romantic and all that. Sharing a milkshake with someone. You need to bring a girl around sometime and try it.”

“Please.” Brooke gives Nina a look, who holds up her hands in surrender.

“I’m just saying. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you pine over someone. You should get back out there.”

“As if I was ever ‘ _out there’_ in the first place.”

Who wants a giant milkshake, anyway? Sure, if she’d have someone to share it with- 

Nah. Brooke’s not sure if she’d survive that much sugar. Though the donut on top _does_ look kinda good. It’s a chocolate glazed one too, which is Brooke’s favourite. Maybe she’ll treat herself to just the donut itself after her next run. 

Brooke doesn’t have to pine for sugar for too long, though, not when she heads to the gym, intent on getting some work done while the late afternoon classes take place and runs smack dab into Vanessa, who nearly drops the container in her hands. 

“So I tried to bake something, but I’m not exactly a good baker, y’know? I made cookies but they got all burned, and Alexis tried one and said it tasted like shit, so I said fuck it and just went to Krispy Kreme and got some-”

“Timbits!” Brooke can’t help the excited squeal that leaves her mouth, because it’s been awhile since she’s had some.

Vanessa, however, looks confused. “The fuck is a timbit? These are donut holes or something. But, anyway. For you.” 

Vanessa holds out the box, looking a little sheepish, and Brooke, for once, feels like she doesn’t have anything to volley back at her.

“Why? I mean, thank you, but - you didn’t have to, what’d you get me timbits for?” Brooke opens the box, and there’s honey glazed and jelly filled and...chocolate glazed.

Excellent.

“I felt kinda bad after yesterday. Didn’t mean to pry. I mean, I kinda did, but you’re right, you’re not a coach anyway...”

Brooke can feel the way her cheeks heat up, the sinking feeling in her chest because Vanessa hadn’t done anything wrong, really, she’d been curious and sure, Brooke had been in a shitty mood, but she shouldn’t have taken it out on her. She has to resist the urge to reach out, touch Vanessa’s shoulder. “No, god, that was all on me. Shit. I was the one who snapped when I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry for it. You didn’t owe me anything, I should be the one getting you some snacks or something.” 

Vanessa shrugs, but there’s a smile on her face, a light in her eyes. “How ‘bout you share these donut holes with me, then? Dibs on the jelly filled.” She reaches in, pops one in her mouth, and Brooke feels the way her own mouth pulls into a smile without even meaning to.

“I’m more of a chocolate glazed girl, myself.” 

It’s hard to work when the box of timbits is sitting on Brooke’s desk, and the sight of it makes her heart feel a little bit lighter, a little happier. Because Vanessa went out and did that, brought her a _snack_ when Brooke hadn’t exactly been nice to her. But Vanessa isn’t holding it against her now, and it solidifies, to Brooke, that she’s going to try a little harder. Be a bit more forgiving, a bit more open. 

Maybe bring Vanessa a snack of her own sometime.

Brooke rolls out her neck as the evening wears on, closing the tabs on her computer when the clock hits nine. She’s not that tired, not really, but sitting hunched over at a desk has never been her strong suit. There’s a reason she keeps a spare set of workout clothes in her office, after all. 

The gym is mostly empty, from what Brooke can see - the last class of the night had ended at eight, and she’d already waved goodbye to the evening’s instructors on their way out. Except Brooke’s sure that she can still hear scuffling noises behind the bags hanging in the far corner of the gym, almost as if someone’s still here-

And of course it’s Vanessa, light on her toes and letting out little _whoosh_ noises every time she punches the air, holds her hands up in front of her face against an imaginary opponent. Brooke pauses, watching how fast Vanessa moves, how comfortable she looks despite the sweat dripping down her face, the echo that her scuffing shoes causes around the otherwise quiet gym.

Brooke watches as Vanessa pauses, bends over, hands on her knees as she catches her breath before slowly standing back up, wiping the sweat on her brow with the back of her forearm. Brooke stops leaning against the punching bag she’s been standing close to and watching from, takes a step closer instead.

“Try adding a hook right after your cross. It’s sometimes enough to catch opponents off guard.” 

Vanessa nearly jumps a foot in the air, and Brooke wants to crack up, really, when Vanessa turns to her as white as a ghost.

“Jesus Christ. Are you tryna give me cardiac arrest or something? Cause my untimely death at the ripe old age of twenty six?” Vanessa puts a gloved hand over her heart, and Brooke raises an eyebrow, watches the way Vanessa is still trying to catch her breath. “What are you doing here so late, anyway?”

Brooke snorts. “Have you forgotten that I own this place?”

“Ain’t you got places to be other than this gym, though? You got any hobbies?” Vanessa takes a swig from her water bottle and Brooke makes a face, because she’s definitely not going to answer that one.

“What are _you_ doing here so late? Didn’t your class end forty five minutes ago?”

“Yeah, but then I was too slow in one of the sparring matches and felt one step behind the entire time and was off my game and just needed a little more practice, y’know? Before I went home.” Vanessa shrugs. “‘Sides, I don’t have work ‘til twelve tomorrow, anyway. We gonna sleep in.”

Brooke pauses, looks at Vanessa. Really looks at her. The sweat soaked baby hairs framing her temples, the way her chest is still rising and falling from the exertion. The fire in her eyes that practically screams that she has something to prove - or rather, feels like she has to. It’s pure hunger, pure ambition, maybe a little unchecked and running rampant, but Brooke recognizes it clear as day. Because it’s how she used to be as a boxer, too.

There were days when Brooke would stay late into the evening at the gym, get there early in the morning. Train, train, train until her mind became a blank slate, until she wasn’t thinking of anything else anymore. Brooke had become so good at taking the desire, the need to win, and channeling it into a headspace where she actually could. Mind you, it was her dad who helped her with that-

But it’s not her anymore. Though maybe, just maybe, now it’s Vanessa. 

Vanessa, who takes another swig from her water bottle before dropping it back on the ground and stretching out her arms. “What’d you say to try again? A hook right after…?”

“After you throw a cross. Follow it with a hook with the same hand, because that’s not going to be as expected. Helps if you throw both with your non dominant one too, just gotta work on making it as precise.” Brooke demonstrates with her ungloved hands, slowing down the movements and she doesn’t miss how intently Vanessa is watching, how her head tilts when she’s focusing. 

“Alright.” Vanessa attempts the moves, making a face as she does. “Like this?”

“Try and extend your reach with your shoulder a little bit more. Mind if I…?” Brooke reaches out, tentatively, and Vanessa nods, so she moves Vanessa’s shoulders slightly, positioning her arm. 

Vanessa’s muscles tense under Brooke’s touch, the tendons and veins that become more and more defined by the day. Brooke tries to ignore the goosebumps that rise on her own skin, when Vanessa’s is so hot to the touch. 

“There you go. See how it gets you the point in a way that’s a little bit cleaner?” Brooke doesn’t want to let go of Vanessa, really, her hand hovering above her shoulder, not quite pulling back just yet.

Vanessa pulls back before trying again, and Brooke can see how she slows down, consciously works on her movements. Brooke can almost see the cogs turning in her head, the dots that connect the moves with their execution and purpose beginning to join in her brain. It’s a feeling that Brooke remembers well - that phase before an action becomes muscle memory, when the brain works overtime to make it sink in. When the true learning happens as the foundations are laid for a strong technique to be built. 

“Huh. Never thought of it this way.” Vanessa pivots, extending her reach in the way that Brooke’s shown her a few more times, speeding up before throwing the combination another time. She grins up at Brooke, and Brooke has to ignore how Vanessa’s light makes her feel like she’s glowing a little from the inside, too. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a good teacher?”

“Considering I’m not a coach, no.” Brooke pairs her wry tone with a shrug, ignoring how it makes Vanessa’s brow furrow.

“Okay, _not a coach_. Grab some punch mitts and let me practice these combinations a little more, yeah?” Vanessa gestures to the storage cupboard, where all the padding and punching bags and supplies are kept. 

Brooke lets out a snort but heads to the cupboard nonetheless, grabbing a set of mitts for Vanessa to do the drills against, because let’s be real - what does she even have to lose?

Especially when Vanessa’s gloves are already up, protecting her face, and she’s already light on her feet, ready to go. It feels natural, easy for Brooke to hold up the mitts for Vanessa, let her have a go at them, because Vanessa’s energy is contagious, somehow - the determination and grit and spirit behind her narrowed eyes means that she isn’t giving up anytime soon. 

Brooke pushes Vanessa a little as she throws combinations in her direction - moving the mitts slightly, swiping them in Vanessa’s direction so that she has to duck. Vanessa retaliates just in time, matching her tit for tat as she does, and so Brooke keeps going. And going. And going. 

Until the sound of a ringtone makes both of them jump, and Vanessa’s phone on the bench lights up the mostly dark gym.

“Shit. What time is it?” Vanessa lets out a huff as she fumbles with her gloves, trying and failing to pull them off. 

Brooke scoops up the phone in her hand, swipes to answer before holding it up to Vanessa’s ear. Vanessa’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and she’s about to say something before the voice on the other end begins to prattle on. 

“Yeah, whatever, I got caught up - no, dinner wasn’t my responsibility today, what are you talking about? Didn’t you want to order from that barbecue place with Rob? What do you mean you were waiting for me? I’m not dating the both of y’all!” Vanessa scowls when the line clicks on the other end, and Brooke pulls the phone back, watches as Vanessa finally pulls a glove off. 

“Stupid fucking sisters. Mine ain’t even got half a brain.” Vanessa fiddles with her other glove and Brooke can’t help but reach out for it, undo the straps for her.

“Not even half, huh?” Brooke’s smile is wry as she puts Vanessa’s gloves on the ground, starting to undo the wraps next. 

“Maybe a third of one. Pro tip? Don’t live with your sister. You’ll want to rip her head off.” 

“Mine has a bunch of toddlers, so that’s unlikely to happen in the future.” Brooke passes the wraps to Vanessa, feeling the way her brush up against Vanessa’s palms, and the way it makes Vanessa stutter a little in her movements. 

“I gotta head home and square up with her a little, but…” Vanessa pauses, and Brooke notices how warm her eyes are, the way there’s a slight smile on her face amidst the slight reddening of her cheeks. “Thanks for practicing with me. Taking your own time out. That was nice of you.”

“Honestly? I had a pretty good time.” 

It’s true, because the way Vanessa had kept going, pushed herself just a little more than Brooke thought she’d be able to, not letting herself give in, had been refreshing. Exciting to watch. Because Vanessa’s so new but has the raw skills that can’t be taught - the perseverance, the determination, the need to prove herself that shines out of her as clear as day. Brooke can already see how much Vanessa’s improved since the very first class she’d had, and she has a feeling that Vanessa’s nowhere near peaking. That she’ll have exponential room to grow, if she lets herself do so. 

But it had also been nice to just spend time with Vanessa. Hear more of her corny jokes in between drills, give her high fives when she’d done well, even teased her a little bit. Sue her, Brooke likes her company. Vanessa’s fun. And if Brooke ever has a chance to do this again with her? She’ll take it. 

* * *

Vanessa’s not too sure about this yogurt and granola thing. 

Sure, Vanessa had been interested when Brooke had brought some one afternoon for a late morning breakfast in a cute little tupperware container, and Brooke had been nice enough to text her the recipe, but now that Vanessa’s making it?

She misses her morning bagel.

But Brooke had mentioned that yogurt is a light enough breakfast for a morning training session, not feeling too heavy in the stomach while sparring, and Vanessa’s inclined to believe her. So, she’s willing to give it a try. 

Especially now that Vanessa’s been spending more and more time at the gym, more often than not with Brooke. It had started almost accidentally, at first - an evening here, a weekend afternoon there. Times where Brooke had picked up punch mitts, or gloves of her own and practiced with Vanessa a little, dropping little tips and hints that Vanessa immediately filed away in her brain for safekeeping. 

It’s a Saturday morning and Vanessa knows that Brooke’s going to be at the gym, as she always is. Vanessa also knows that Brooke’s going to drop her work in the office as soon as she gets there, already in her athleisure, and is going to join her, despite her protests of _I’m not a coach, y’know_. But Brooke likes it just as much, Vanessa can tell. Being able to push Vanessa, challenge her, giving her things to work towards. Vanessa always notices the way Brooke’s eyes sparkle with pride when she lands a particularly good hit, or pulls off a complicated combination right after Brooke’s explained it. 

So, Vanessa supposes, these sessions have become a bit of a _thing_ with the two of them. Periods of time where they’re across from each other with boxing mitts and padding and gloves between them, where she gets to focus on Brooke and Brooke focuses on her and there’s not much talking when they’re sparring, really, but Vanessa has never felt more connected to someone. Not as she begins to learn about how Brooke moves, how her eyes always flick a certain way before she’s about to execute something risky. Or how Brooke always gets a little smile on her face when Vanessa lands a blow against her that would win her a point in a real match, the pride in her eyes still there even as she brings her gloves back up in front of her face as they continue. 

The extra practice has shaped Vanessa into a better fighter, undeniably. Enough that she’s becoming more and more comfortable in the ring, and the one to beat in her actual boxing classes. Enough that she’s willing to come into the gym even during times where she doesn’t have to, just for the purpose of working on her skills, continuing to climb.

The fact that Brooke will be there, too? Icing on the cake.

Vanessa makes a face as she mixes the yogurt and granola and fruit with her spoon, the mixture not looking all that appetizing. But she’s willing to try it, because why not?

The spoon is halfway to her mouth when Alexis rushes into the kitchen, flinging the doors of the fridge open. Vanessa raises a brow when she notices that Alexis has a full face on, that she’s wearing decent clothing and really, who does that at nine a.m. on a Saturday morning? Especially Alexis, who usually sleeps in on the weekends to at least eleven?

“You’re up early.” The words come out a little bit muffled through Vanessa’s bites of her yogurt, which she has to admit, is kind of delicious.

Alexis lets out a noncommittal hum, pulling out an apple from the fridge. “Oh, y’know. Plans.”

“Plans? What kinda plans?” Any plans that can get Alexis out of bed and into a pair of skinny jeans on a Saturday morning? Must be important plans. 

“Nothing. Why you so nosy, anyway?” Alexis fiddles with the coffee maker, and Vanessa can’t see her face, which only serves to make her more suspicious.

Alexis is hiding something from her. Vanessa knows her sister well enough to tell.

Vanessa narrows her eyes. “You up to something. Your poker face is shit.” 

“Don’t you have better things to do than give me the third degree?” Alexis turns around, but Vanessa can see the way she’s fiddling with the apple in her hand, the way her foot is tapping. 

Vanessa’s eyes widen when the thought pops into her head. “Wait, you’re not cheating on Rob, are you? What the fuck, Alexis?” 

“What? No!” Alexis sputters, shooting her a look. “I’m not fucking cheating on my boyfriend. Jesus.” 

“Fine. You better be telling the truth.” Vanessa sniffs, taking another bite of her yogurt.

For Alexis’ sake, Vanessa hopes she’s right, because she likes Rob. There could be worse future brother in laws to contend with.

Alexis is muttering to herself as she heads to the bathroom, and Vanessa doesn’t feel bad for prying, really, not when she’s her sister. And especially when Alexis still hasn’t told her what she’s up to. 

Vanessa finishes her granola faster than she expects, and is about to stand up, wash the dishes so she can head out for the gym, when Alexis’ phone lights up on the table with notifications. Now, Vanessa’s not a nosy one, but Alexis _is_ her sister, and maybe it won’t hurt to take a little look-

_Dad: see you soon, mija!_

_Dad: I’ll be there in about twenty._

Wait. Dad?

Vanessa’s heart feels like it’s climbing higher and higher in her chest, about to explode because that can’t be their dad. It can’t be. 

Alexis wouldn’t do that. Not after all the shit he did to their mom when they were kids and they’re so much better off without him and-

“See you later. I’m out.” Alexis swipes her now darkened phone from the table, shrugging on a jacket and Vanessa can’t even get a word out before Alexis slams the door, not when the words are caught in her throat with thorns on their sides. 

Alexis is meeting up with their dad. She’s thinking about forgiving him, of all things, hell, maybe she already has. But it’s stupid, he doesn’t deserve it, and why would she even talk to him in the first place? Why would she let him in?

Vanessa has to clench her fists to resist the urge to slam one into the table, break something because Alexis is ruining everything, practically spitting on their mom and on Vanessa too and she knows that violence doesn’t solve shit necessarily, but fuck. 

Vanessa flexes her fingers, packing up her gym bag as fast as she can because although she’s going to get to the gym a little bit earlier than usual, she fucking needs it. 

Riding on the subway and changing into her workout clothes and pulling on her gloves all feel like a blur, as if all of Vanessa’s senses have been placed behind a glass wall that muffle her thoughts. The flaming anger still burns under the surface but doesn’t quite melt through or break the glass, instead bubbling more and more inside her until she gets to throw her first punch against the bag in front of her.

Hitting the bag doesn’t solve or fix any of Vanessa’s problems, it never does. But it lets the anger (and the disappointment, and the hurt) flow out of her veins and break into pieces against the bag, as if each hit is a way to quell the feeling of her chest twisting in on itself. Because when she’s hitting the bag she doesn’t have to think, and she isn’t reminded of all the old memories and feelings and longings that her past self used to have for things that she would never get. She can focus on the _thunk_ from the bag upon impact, the way that the chains that hang it from the ceiling rattle a little bit after every single punch. Vanessa can almost feel the blood that pumps through her veins and arteries and how it lights her muscles and tendons on fire, pushing her farther than her body can normally take. 

When Vanessa gets into a groove it’s almost as if the rest of her environment fades away, from the ceiling fan to the floor under her feet to the sounds of traffic from the road outside. It also means that any disruption to her concentration is jarring, as if a bucket of water’s been dumped on her head. And when two hands grip the punching bag on either side to steady it, Vanessa can’t help but jump. 

“The fuck?”

“Do you have a personal grudge against this bag, or something? You’re beating it right up.” Brooke’s head pops out from the other side of the bag and Vanessa lets out an exhale, because truthfully, she’d forgotten for a second that Brooke had been planning to come to the gym today, too. 

“Isn’t that the point?” Vanessa wipes the sweat gathering by her temples with her forearm. 

“Only if it stole your last paycheck or boyfriend or something.” Brooke tightens her grip on the bag. “Let me hold it steady for you.”

“Thanks.” Vanessa grunts out, trying to let the environment around her fade away so that she can get into the right headspace, hit the bag the way that she so badly needs right now. 

Brooke’s steadying hands are helpful because the bag has less recoil, and it allows Vanessa to turn off her mind and let her body take over, her arms following the muscle memory that’s been etched into them since her very first class. Instead of an ache there’s adrenaline in her muscles that builds and builds, the type that would manifest as jitteriness if she didn’t have a method of channeling it. But the bag is there, and Brooke is there, and Vanessa’s going to keep hitting it until she has absolutely no strength left in her-

“Let’s grab the punch mitts. Practice some drills.”

“Huh?” Vanessa blinks, trying to catch her breath when Brooke sticks her head around from behind the punching bag, gesturing towards the equipment cupboard.

“We can work on timing and technique both. Never hurts.” 

Vanessa wipes the sweat from her brow as Brooke picks up a pair of mitts, holding them up at eye level. She needs to refocus, think about the moves she wants to execute, different ways of getting a good hit against the mitts. The _thunk_ of her gloves against the punching mitts isn’t as satisfying as it is on the bag, but it’s just as intense because Brooke is moving her hands, swiping in Vanessa’s direction too, and she needs to focus on not only her own movements, but Brooke’s too.

“Hey!” Vanessa lets out a grumble when Brooke swipes a mitt near her face, lifting her own hands a second too late, and Brooke shrugs.

“Gotta be faster when protecting yourself. Pay attention. Your opponent’s moves won’t stop because you need to think for a second.”

“I know that. Jesus.” Vanessa lets out a breath, lifting her arms up once more to shield her face. 

Vanessa’s not sloppy, she knows that - she’ll just protect herself better next time. First she needs to focus on hitting the mitts again, getting her fists to where they need to be for maximum impact, but it’s hard when Brooke moves one of her hands at the last second and Vanessa misses, nearly tripping forwards. Brooke’s hands on her biceps aren’t steadying they way they’re meant to be, but rather a reminder to Vanessa that she’s missed again, that she’s usually better than this and doesn’t fall for stupid shit from her opponents, but her brain is spinning too fast, not letting her refocus, not letting her think.

Brooke takes a step back, holding her gloves up once more. “C’mon. Try again, you can do it.”

Vanessa knows she can, that’s the thing.

She’s not someone who makes stupid mistakes that any athlete would be able to avoid, and she just needs to get back into the zone, use her brain while trusting what her fists want to do. But it’s hard when she’s missing Brooke’s gloves, not hitting combinations the way she’s used to because Brooke’s moving a little too fast, or maybe Vanessa’s a little too slow, but it’s not _working_ and she can feel the frustration that keeps building and building and threatens to boil over. Vanessa knows that if this were an actual match she’d probably be down and out, having lost because of her careless mistakes but she needs to win, needs to start doing better. Right now. She needs to win because that’s what she’s supposed to do, she’s not supposed to miss or fall for Brooke’s feints like she’s a rookie. Because she’s not one. 

Not really.

Vanessa’s better. She knows she is. She has to be. 

But it feels as if Brooke’s one step of her for each punch, each block and it doesn’t make sense because they’re just practicing and Brooke hasn’t even broken a sweat yet and why does Vanessa feel like she’s losing her mind and faith in her nonexistent boxing abilities?

One of Vanessa’s hits misses again and it allows Brooke to land yet another one of her own that Vanessa _should_ be able to block, usually can block. She can’t help but let out a frustrated growl, taking a step back from Brooke and the punching mitts, and the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes are completely irrelevant.

“You okay, V?” Brooke pauses and Vanessa nods her head, lifting her gloves back up because nothing’s wrong. Nothing. 

“I’m fine, let’s keep going, I need to practice-”

Brooke fixes Vanessa with a gaze that makes her want to scowl, take a step back. “Hold on. You’re not fully in it right now, your eyes are all over the place. Let’s stop for a second.” 

“I don’t need to.” Vanessa doesn’t. What she needs right now is to push through and focus her brain, get herself back in the headspace that’ll allow her to do better, and she can get there. She knows it. “Let’s go again.” 

But Brooke takes a step back and then another, and drops her mitts from in front of her. “Nope.”

Vanessa has to resist the urge to stomp a foot, let out a grumble, despite how much she desperately wants to. “Fine. I’ll just practice without you, then.” 

And who’s to say that Vanessa won’t? The gym has plenty of available punching bags and lots of free space and she can just go over drills on her own, maybe it’ll go even better and she won’t be in her head anymore. Except that Brooke is taking off the punching mitts on her hands, tilting her head towards the door and Vanessa falters, because of course Brooke is calling her on her bluff. 

She doesn’t mind practicing alone, but not when Brooke is looking at her like _that_ with disappointment and concern in her eyes that Vanessa wants nothing to do with. She doesn’t need it. But as much as she tries to tell herself that she still feels the anger in her deflate, the need to prove herself falter for a second when Brooke reaches the gym’s front door.

“Fresh air. Just for five minutes, then we’ll be back.”

And somehow, it’s enough for Vanessa to reach for her gloves and wraps to undo them, and follow her.


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That too.” Brooke nudges Vanessa’s shoulder, watches as the edge of her lip curls up. “Sometimes you just gotta wait it out. Punching stuff doesn’t always fix everything.”
> 
> “The amount of times I’ve heard that statement.” Vanessa sighs, waving a hand when Brooke feels her own eyebrow raise in question. “Don’t ask.”
> 
> “Do you punch things a lot, or-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support and kind words about this story. Life is currently super busy with work, and having energy to write consistently can be tough but I appreciate all the patience you guys are willing to give between updates, you're all wonderful. Hope you enjoy this one! Thank you Writ for being the best beta and friend and all around binch.

The brick wall that Brooke is leaning on is rough against her shoulder and bicep, but it’s not enough to keep her from resting against it as she takes another swig from the can of Redbull in her hand. Her attention keeps drawing back to the girl in front of her, the one with her back against the wall and tapping an unopened bottle of Diet Coke against her thigh. 

Vanessa’s eyes are focused on the traffic, darting back and forth, and the sounds from the intersection would be enough to make it obvious that they’re in the city, even if the exhaust fumes weren’t choking their lungs with a heaviness that is hard to breathe out. 

“Vanessa-”

“Don’t.”

The scowl on Vanessa’s face doesn’t do enough to hide the way her brow is furrowing, the way she purses her lips as she swallows hard. Brooke wants to ask her what’s wrong, get her to talk so that she doesn’t have to see the way Vanessa’s shoulders are beginning to slump, because it’s hard to see her like this. Vanessa, who’s always so confident and self assured, so unfazed by the challenges that are thrown her way in the gym because she likes the chance to prove herself. But seeing her shaken and on edge? Brooke wants nothing more than to take it from her, lift that burden off of her shoulders, even though the universe doesn’t exactly allow for such an exchange.

So, Brooke has to settle for a conversation against a wall on a busy city street. 

“It happens. Off days.” Brooke treads as delicately as she can, watching Vanessa’s face as she talks. “There isn’t one athlete that has perfect day after perfect day in the gym. You’re not a machine.” 

Vanessa’s fingers pause the movements that they tap on the brick wall, as she turns ever so slightly towards Brooke. Still looking at traffic, not turning enough to face Brooke, but enough for her to notice. “It’s fucking shitty, is what it is.”

“No doubt about it.” Brooke waits after her words, lets the space hang. She’s not the type to pry, to try and force information out of people, but she’s good at _drawing_ it out. Being quiet enough for someone to spill if they want to, without feeling like they have to. 

“I just can’t turn it off today, y’know? This constant stream.” Vanessa taps her temple, her face twisting. “I wanna not think and just get a fucking break, but it’s not working and I can’t do shit about it. Fuck this shit.”

“Sometimes you want to be able to zone out, but your mind doesn’t always let you. And then it leaks into everything else, too.” Brooke gets it, she does. She’s experienced it enough herself.

“And then you can’t even hit a punching mitt to save your life.” Vanessa finally, finally looks over at Brooke, and she’s still fidgeting but she’s less guarded, and Brooke will take it.

“That too.” Brooke nudges Vanessa’s shoulder, watches as the edge of her lip curls up. “Sometimes you just gotta wait it out. Punching stuff doesn’t always fix everything.”

“The amount of times I’ve heard that statement.” Vanessa sighs, waving a hand when Brooke feels her own eyebrow raise in question. “Don’t ask.”

“Do you punch things a lot, or-”

“Doesn’t matter.” Vanessa shrugs, and Brooke wants to ask more, but Vanessa’s opened her mouth again before she can. “How do you even wait things out when they don’t feel like they’ll ever go away?”

“But things do, eventually. Or, at least, become muted enough that you can function, do what you need to do.” Brooke’s hand is itching for her lighter, for a cigarette from her hip pocket but she ignores it, tries not to think about the burn in her lungs that somehow helps, just a little bit. 

“What did you do back when...” Vanessa trails off, her eyes widening slightly and it’s almost comical, the way that she catches herself. “Uh. Never mind.”

Brooke presses her lips together, because she knows Vanessa’s looked things up. She can’t blame her, after her slight meltdown in her office when Vanessa had won in her tournament. Brooke supposes she owes Vanessa a conversation, then, or answers to some questions, even if Brooke’s supposed to be the one getting Vanessa to talk right now. Maybe, it’ll distract Vanessa a little. “Nah. Go on.”

“So I may or may not have looked at your Wikipedia page. Also, did you know your Instagram is verified? How the fuck?” There’s a blush staining Vanessa’s cheeks making her look all the more sheepish, like she’s trying to worm her way out of getting in trouble with a teacher.

“Since it’s my Instagram, yes, I’ve noticed. Though I don’t really use it that much these days.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Vanessa’s swiping on her phone, holding up a photo. “Considering your latest post was from summer last year.”

Brooke shrugs. “Honestly, my life isn’t that interesting. Is that a worthy excuse?” 

“Nope. Not when you got one of these blue ticks. You gotta use that shit.” Vanessa keeps scrolling and Brooke wants to peek over her shoulder, see what photos she’s looking at. “Damn. You were ripped as fuck.”

Vanessa holds out her phone again and it’s Brooke from one of her last fights, dripping in sweats but with the referee lifting her arm in victory while her opponent is on the other side. Brooke remembers the fight well, and the bruise that bloomed on her jaw from the combat even better. She doesn’t miss that part of boxing competitively, at least.

“Yeah. Used to be. And you’re on your way to it, too.” Brooke tilts her head towards Vanessa because it’s true, the way her shoulders are becoming more defined and the way the muscles in her arms are flexing. 

Vanessa flushes crimson and it’s cute, hard for Brooke to look away from. “But you were going to ask me something.”

“How’d you…” Vanessa trails off, her eyes straying back towards the traffic. “Y’know. Mute things? When it was a lot?”

Vanessa’s skirting around the topic and a part of Brooke appreciates it, because no matter how many years have passed, she’s still not fully there. Over things. Healed. Whatever the words her old therapist would use. 

But maybe it’s a way that Brooke can be there for her. A way that Vanessa will accept, at least, since she doesn’t explicitly want to talk about what’s bothering her. 

So she shrugs. “I still can’t, sometimes. But it’s time. A lot of time. Soon you can look back and things are easier, and you can function a little bit more than you could the day before.”

Brooke remembers how she slowly became more and more functional, in the months after her dad died. First, enough to shower regularly, then to put her clothes away in her closet. Then, gaining enough strength to cook a little, rather than open the Uber Eats app for the hundredth day in a row. Leaving her apartment, grabbing a coffee with a friend and even stepping foot in the gym again.

It hadn’t gone well the first time, with the reminders of her dad dripping from the walls and the way his jacket was still hanging from a hook on his office door. But each subsequent visit was better, as the pain faded more and more each time until it turned into a dull ache, a light bruise. Enough that Brooke could ignore it, live with it. The way that she does now, every single day. 

Brooke reaches for the pack in her pocket before her mind can stop her, before her mom’s words can echo in her ear to tell her that _that’s a very unhealthy habit, Brooke Lynn._ She pulls out her lighter, too, turning towards Vanessa before sticking the cigarette between her teeth to light it. “Do you mind if I-”

Vanessa shrugs. “Nah. That’s nasty, though.”

“Noted.” Brooke snorts before lighting it breathing in to fill up her lungs with the burn that somehow calms them down while pricking them with thorns. “I tried to bury myself in things. Running the gym, keeping it functional even after things happened. But it was hard, what with all the reminders of everything all over the place.”

Vanessa whistles. “Yeah, no shit. Still surrounded by the gym and boxing and even your last name on the outside of the building.”

“It’s gotten easier, though.” It has to Brooke, in a way. More tolerable and less likely to rip her apart from the inside than it used to. 

“But still not easy, is it?” Vanessa’s look is all too knowing, and Brooke shrugs. 

“Nothing else I can do about that.” Aside from waiting, waiting, waiting. Maybe it’ll stop hurting all together with time. Brooke can hope. 

“What about other things to throw yourself into? Nothing related to boxing. Completely different category.” Vanessa’s looking at her expectantly and Brooke pauses, thinks. And thinks. Until Vanessa’s raising her eyebrows, and she wants to cross her arms. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“I mean, I run sometimes?” Brooke knows it’s weak, a little pathetic sounding, even, but damn.

It’s taken Brooke this long to realize that she doesn’t have a life.

“Okay, I see your face falling, don’t look so stricken.” Vanessa’s patting her shoulder, and the way she has to reach up to do so makes Brooke crack a smile, despite the way her stomach is beginning to roll. “Ain’t too late to start a new hobby. Explore what you like.”

Brooke sighs. “I mean, I never really had any time growing up, and now I just…”

“Watch Jeopardy reruns with your dinner?” Vanessa lets out a snort, and Brooke can’t help but scoff as she stomps out her cigarette. 

“Hey, I do not. Not really. Only sometimes.” Brooke prefers reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos, anyway. But Vanessa doesn’t need to know that.

Vanessa nudges her shoulder. “As I said. Never too late to try new things. We gotta round out your experiences, ‘cause they’re sounding mighty sad.”

“What do you mean by _we?_ And sad?” 

Vanessa waves off Brooke’s protests. “Do you trust me?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Brooke has to resist the urge to snort, even though she is intrigued. Part of her wants to see what Vanessa’s going to come up with.

Vanessa’s undeterred as she turns to face Brooke. “Answer this. You free next weekend, say Saturday? I wanna introduce you to something new. And fun. And not boring.”

“Do you now?” 

Saturday nights are ones where Brooke usually soaks for a while in the bath, lets her muscles all unknot themselves, and sometimes even Henry sits beside the bathtub and purrs and it’s always the cutest thing. But Vanessa’s eyes are lighter than they’ve been all morning, and there’s something in them that makes Brooke want to take up her offer. See what the hell Vanessa actually classifies as ‘fun’.

“Fine. Saturday. What do you even have in mind?”

Vanessa’s holding out her hand for a fist bump, and Brooke spares a glance at her now empty Diet Coke bottle, which seems to have taken effect. “You’ll see.”

Brooke’s impressed by Vanessa’s ability to keep her secret as the next week goes on. Vanessa swings by the gym for her classes every evening with an expectant look on her face whenever she pops her head in Brooke’s office door, dropping quips like _‘you better be excited!’_ before turning on her heel and beelining for the change rooms. 

She tries on Wednesday evening to get it out of Vanessa, because she really wants to know enough to prepare herself for whatever _new_ thing Vanessa’s going to make her do. 

Vanessa just sticks her tongue out at Brooke when she walks into the change room, sitting down across from her. Brooke pretends to cover her nose in response, waving a hand in front of her face. “So stinky after class. Go shower.”

“You’re full of shit, I smell like roses.” Vanessa sniffs, reaching for her gym bag. “I ain’t telling you yet. You gotta wait until Saturday to see.”

Vanessa texts Brooke the subway stop they’re meant to meet at though it doesn’t give Brooke a clue of where they’re going, because she hasn’t been in up in the north east end of the city or know much of what’s around there. But Vanessa’s grinning on the platform when Brooke’s train pulls in as the stop is announced over the overhead speakers, in cutoff shorts and round sunglasses pushed up on her head that Brooke’s not quite sure how she pulls off so well.

“Look at you. Five minutes early.” Vanessa’s eyelids are shades of blue and purple and pink behind her lashes and it’s almost mesmerizing for Brooke to look at, especially when the most makeup she has on today is some SPF. 

“Didn’t want to leave you waiting. Though you still haven’t told me what it is that we’re going to be doing.”

Vanessa had only told Brooke to wear clothes she can move around in, though _‘no athleisure’_ had been emphasized. Brooke’s not really sure if her baggy overalls and tank and sneakers fit the deal, though Vanessa’s looking at her with a grin and she doesn’t want to hide away as much as she first did, leaving her place.

“So the real reason you’re so punctual is to find out sooner, huh?” Vanessa gestures towards one of the street exits and turns on her heel, and Brooke can’t help but follow.

The stairs are crowded and Vanessa holds out a hand behind her and it’s too easy, really, the way Brooke’s hand fits so perfectly in hers as they navigate through the crowd. Vanessa drops it as she holds up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun once they reach the street, using her other hand to open her maps app and Brooke ignores the flipping in her stomach because of it, instead reaching out to tap Vanessa’s sunglasses.

“These would help, no?” Brooke pulls out her own aviators, and has to hold back a laugh at the way Vanessa sticks her tongue out. 

“Maybe.” 

“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me now?”

Vanessa shrugs, reaching out a hand again and Brooke’s not sure what kind of pattern they’re in, but she likes it. “We’re almost there. C’mon.”

The building they stop in front of has bricks painted blue and green and orange and pink that have faded from the beating sun, with a neon sign overhead that Brooke has to squint to read. “A roller skating rink?”

“My sis and I would come here all the time as kids with our beat up skates, when my mom would be working her late shifts. Mostly to keep us outta trouble.” Vanessa’s looking up at Brooke with a gaze that’s almost tentative as she shifts on her feet, fiddles with her hands, as if she’s waiting for Brooke’s reaction.

“You must have been adorable.” Brooke can’t help the little pout that forms on her lips, picturing a tiny Vanessa zooming around on wheels. “Are we gonna…?”

“Skate? Yes, that’s why we’re here. Duh.” Vanessa snorts and Brooke suddenly feels rooted in place, eyes drawn back to the neon sign that flickers even during the daylight hours.

“I’ve never roller skated before.”

Brooke had gone ice skating once, as a kid, and all she remembers is the cold and how easily the skates slipped out from underneath her. She’s not sure if roller skates are similar, but either way, it doesn’t bode well, and she’s definitely going to make a fool of herself-

“Good thing you have me to teach you how, right?” And Vanessa’s tugging on her hand again, pushing open the double doors that lead to the darkened rink and Brooke swallows back a gulp as she follows her.

The skates that the attendant hands to Brooke are bright green, and the colour makes her nose wrinkle a bit. Vanessa looks over and is most definitely holding back a giggle as she laces up her own, and Brooke wants to scowl.

“These skates? Very Shrek, one might say.” Vanessa presses her lips to keep from laughing, and Brooke makes a face.

“Shut it. Why are yours so cute in comparison?”

Vanessa sticks out a leg, and the purple and white of her skates combined with the electric blue laces and matching wheels is hard for Brooke to look away from. “‘Cause they’re mine. They’re old as hell, but the first pair I ever got on my own. And they’re still holding up.” 

Vanessa pushes herself off the bench that they’re lacing up their skates on, looking as if she isn’t balancing on wheels to keep herself from falling. She kneels beside the skate that Brooke’s struggling with, grabbing the laces from her hands. “Lemme get that.”

“Are you sure-hey! That’s tight.” Brooke yelps when Vanessa pulls on the laces, her foot most definitely in for the ride now. 

But Vanessa’s undeterred, tying off the laces with a bow and a flourish of her fingers. “There we go. Now gimme your other foot, lemme fix it.” 

Vanessa stands back up once she’s done, holding out her hands and Brooke wants to grip the bench tighter, because the prospect of standing up on wheels that could easily slip out from underneath her is terrifying. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s fun! I promise. You said you trusted me, remember?”

“When did I say that?” But Brooke grabs Vanessa’s hands nonetheless, lifting herself up from the bench as slowly as she can, and the shaking of her legs makes her freeze because she’s _absolutely_ going to fall and make a fool of herself, and it turns out standing in roller skates is very, very high up.

“You did it!” Vanessa grins and the way her smile lights up her whole face is almost enough, really, for Brooke to be distracted by the fact that she can fall at any moment. Almost. “Now let’s shuffle over to the rink.”

“We have to _move_ in these?”

But Brooke’s protests fall on deaf ears as Vanessa tugs on her hands, skating backwards, and all she can do is tense her leg muscles and let Vanessa pull her onto the rink. 

“We’re gonna fall, we’re gonna fall, we’re gonna fall-”

“Look, we’re halfway around the rink and you’re still rolling around. You’re fine, you’re doing great.” Vanessa’s backwards strides as she tugs Brooke along look effortless, her legs pushing off on the smooth surface as if second nature. 

“How are you doing that?” Brooke can’t help but marvel as she watches Vanessa skate, gripping her hands tighter than she should as Vanessa guides them around the outer edges of the rink, the LED lights flashing greens and purples and reds on her waves. 

“I’ve been skating for a long ass time. Gets easier the more you do it. Just like boxing.” Vanessa’s encouraging smile doesn’t do much to ease Brooke’s worries about how far of a drop the ground seems to be, but the slight squeeze that she gives her hands _is_ a little reassuring. 

Brooke can’t help but let out a breathless laugh when Vanessa lifts their intertwined hands up, moving them in time to the music. “Woah.”

“Fun, right?” Vanessa pulls them to the side of the rink, slowing down until they’re both rolling to a stop.

“What’re you doing?” Brooke protests, because she was starting to have some fun.

Vanessa skates around to stand beside her. “Gonna teach you how to propel yourself on your own.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not minding this tow truck situation-”

“You can do it.” Vanessa’s encouraging smile, somehow, is enough to make Brooke sigh and relent, nodding her head. “Okay. Point your feet outwards, with your heels together.” 

Brooke hesitantly shifts her feet, nearly yelping when she almost loses her balance. “Jeez.”

“Now push off from your left leg, so that you’re gliding on your right. Go on.” Vanessa demonstrates, gliding effortlessly before turning around to face Brooke again.

Brooke tries, she really does to copy what Vanessa’s just done, but her right foot slips underneath her and-

“Caught you, you’re fine, you’re fine.” Vanessa’s forearms catch Brooke under her elbows, bending her knees to keep her balance and Brooke squeaks, her skates uselessly rolling on the ground underneath her until she gains her footing again.

“Question. Did you bring me here to cause my untimely death? Because my legs are long and it’s a really far journey to the ground.” Brooke has Vanessa’s hands in a vice grip, because she’s most definitely going to fall again if she lets go.

But luckily, Vanessa doesn’t seem to mind, from the encouraging smile that she flashes to Brooke. “You’ll be fine. A prizewinning boxer and you scared of some wheels?”

“I’m not scared!” Brooke huffs, but doesn’t loosen her grip on Vanessa’s hands, because, well, why should she. “Okay, a little bit.”

“Let’s try again, then. Nothing to be scared of. I’ll keep you and your giraffe legs from getting hurt.” Vanessa’s snickers at the face that Brooke makes. “Won’t get better ‘til you practice, right?”

“Hmph.”

But Brooke tries again, and ends up _moving_ and she’s going forward and maybe she lets out a little shriek, but maybe Vanessa hasn’t noticed, because she’s too busy letting out a little _whoop._

“Good! Now push off your other leg the same way.”

The two of them make their way around the rink at a snail’s pace, other skaters passing them without a care in the world, but Brooke doesn’t mind, not when she’s actually moving and not falling and Vanessa’s steady stream of encouragements _(‘queen of skating, that’s what I’m talking about!’)_ is like music to her ears. And slowly, surely, her grip on Vanessa’s hands isn’t so tight anymore, and they’re speeding up a little, though Brooke doesn’t let go just yet. 

It’s kind of nice. 

The oldies song over the speakers bleeds into a Rihanna song and Vanessa lets out a little screech, squeezing Brooke’s hands. “It’s my woman!”

“Your woman?”

“The woman of my dreams. Now shush, I gotta perform.”

Vanessa, as it turns out, knows every single word to _Bitch Better Have My Money_ , and her ability to multitask by singing while skating backwards is a sight that’s going to most definitely stay in Brooke’s memory for a long time. Vanessa flourishes her singing with gestures and spins where she lets go of Brooke’s grip, and despite the mild terror, Brooke finds that she can keep going on her own without her legs giving out from underneath her. 

“I’m still going!” Brooke squeaks out the words as she manages to turn the corner of the rink on her own, Vanessa’s hands hovering in front of hers should she need them.

Vanessa lets out a cheer, spinning as she skates. “Hell yeah you are!”

“Okay, now you’re just showing off.” Brooke watches as Vanessa follows it with a spin on one leg, her arms above her head.

“Tell me you’re not enjoying the show, though.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Brooke snorts, her eyes back to her feet, but then she feels a tap on her shoulder and hears a _tsk_ from Vanessa. 

“Eyes up, if you look down you’re gonna fall! Chop chop!” Vanessa skates in front of Brooke, speeding up and Brooke can’t help but grin as she watches her go. 

Vanessa laps her, a feat that isn’t too difficult to accomplish with Brooke’s pace, but it’s just as well, because Brooke can see how comfortable Vanessa is, how much fun she’s having. And as she skates, as she starts to feel less and less afraid of falling flat on her face, Brooke’s realizing how much fun she’s having, too.

When they’re back on the benches and unlacing their skates and wiping the sweat from their foreheads, Brooke has a grin on her face that is mirrored on Vanessa’s, her eyes crinkling as she unlaces her own skates. Brooke’s quads feel heavy, her inner thighs sore from using muscles that she usually doesn’t push. But the ache is nice, a reminder that she’s learned something new and a sense of accomplishment that she hasn’t felt in awhile. 

“I dunno about you, but if I don’t get any food in me soon I’m gonna probably faint right on this floor.” Vanessa wipes the back of her forehead as she zips her backpack, tucking her skates away.

Brooke raises her eyebrow as she drops her skates beside her on the bench. “You say that as if you didn’t just do like, eight spins in a row about thirty seconds ago.” 

“All I’m saying is I definitely can’t do a ninth spin. I’m too hungry. Can I even walk anymore? Who knows?” Vanessa’s dramatic sigh makes Brooke let out and laugh and stand up, holding out her hands for Vanessa to grab.

“Let’s test it and go walk to find somewhere to eat.”

The food truck they end up in line for has _‘the best fucking empanadas ever, just you wait’_ and Brooke finds that it’s quite nice, really, to watch Vanessa light up as she points at the various items listed on the menu. 

“So the chicken ones are my favourite. But Silky really likes the beef, and Kiki loves the mushroom and cheese ones ‘cause she’s weird, and there’s also dessert ones which are great too, but we need actual sustenance after skating so much. Any stand out to you? Which ones are you feeling?” Vanessa points at the board, and Brooke has to hold back a smile at how excited she looks, and the way she’s already on her tiptoes and trying to peek into the truck’s takeout window.

“Honestly, they all look pretty good.” Brooke shrugs as they get closer and closer to the front of the line. “What’s your second favourite type after the chicken?”

“Easy. The beet and goat cheese ones. Though those ones make you poop kinda purple.” Vanessa’s smile is sheepish. “But they’re good!”

“So why don’t I get those, and then we can split ours and share with each other?” 

Vanessa reaches up, rests a hand on her shoulder with a serious expression that makes Brooke wonder if she’s said something wrong, before-

“You a real one. You truly are.”

The park bench that they end up on with their food overlooks a basketball court that’s packed with kids playing pickup games, practicing their free throws. Vanessa points at a boy who’s at least a foot shorter than his friends, or maybe his older sibling’s friends, from how much smaller he looks.

“That was me as a kid. I’d always want to play with Alexis’ boyfriends and their friends, and most of ‘em would let me. Though I could never get that ball and would always pitch a fit and stomp off because of it.”

“Y’know, that’s surprisingly easy to picture.” Brooke takes a bite of an empanada, wiping sour cream from the corner of her mouth. “Shit, these are good.’

“Right? Anyway, joke was on them, though. They all started asking me out when we hit our teens and I learned to beat a mug, and I turned every one of ‘em down. Suckers.” Vanessa snickers, flipping her hair over her shoulder before dipping an empanada of her own. “Got the last laugh.”

“So they weren’t your type, huh?” Brooke keeps her voice light, busies herself with another bite when Vanessa raises an eyebrow at her.

“Nah. I got better taste.” Vanessa licks sour cream off her finger and Brooke tries to look away, she really does, because her brain is absolutely going to start to get ideas if she doesn’t-

“Brooke Lynn? Is that you?”

“Huh?” Brooke swivels her head towards the voice behind her, and the girl in a snapback who’s jogging up to their bench looks familiar, and then Brooke feels herself freeze when she realizes who it is. “Nicky?”

“Bitch, I thought you disappeared off the face of the earth or something. Damn.” Nicky’s black hair is a contrast from the bleach blond locks that Brooke remembers from back in the day. She looks genuinely happy to see her, but Brooke’s stomach is still turning, still a little on edge.

“Who’s this?” Vanessa takes a bite of her empanada as she gives Nicky a once over, but Nicky doesn’t miss a beat, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. 

“Nicky. Ex-boxer.” Nicky tilts her head towards Brooke. “We used to be on the same circuit.”

“I didn’t know you retired.” Brooke gets out, trying to ignore the curious gaze from Vanessa. 

Nicky shrugs. “Tore a ligament and discovered the world of sponsors during recovery. Never really got the motivation to go back after that.”

“An influencer, huh?” Vanessa clicks her tongue, and the way she sounds mildly impressed is a bit unnecessary, at least to Brooke. 

Nicky grins. “You want a Daniel Wellington watch, I’m your gal. But where have you been, girl? It’s been ages. And who’s this?”

It’s a good thing that Vanessa flips her hair over her shoulder, sticks out a fist for Nicky to bump as she introduces herself because Brooke’s not really sure to say, not really. 

She hasn’t been anywhere, which in itself is the real issue. She’s been at the gym, and thrown herself into the work of keeping it running and sure it’s not the most enjoyable thing in the world, but...what would the alternative be?

Maybe leaving the professional circuit so abruptly was a bit jarring, but Brooke at the time hadn’t cared. Not when other factors had been so important, not when her dad had just _died_ and she couldn’t get out of bed consistently, let alone box. 

But Nicky had always been nice to her back in the day. Always exchanging pleasantries, shit-talking announcers and managers with her before their fights. Brooke’s never really thought about what it must have been like for everyone else when she’d left like that. Without a last fight, or a buildup, or publicity. 

She’d just…left. 

“Y’know. Been around. Doing other things.” Brooke wants to facepalm when the words leave her lips because she knows how stupidly vague it sounds. 

But Nicky seems unfazed, as she leans against the edge of the bench. “Honestly, good for you. You were always so focused, it’s nice to see you outside a boxing ring for once. At least you can enjoy more of life and try new things, right? That’s what I’m discovering these days. Having some fun.”

“Something like that.” Brooke’s not going to wax on about how she’s still in a gym most of the week, anyway. Nicky doesn’t need to know that. 

“So y’all boxed together, huh?” Vanessa scoots forward on the bench. “What was she like?”

“Lethal. Also cocky, back then.” Nicky snickers and Brooke can’t help the way her jaw drops. “You so were.”

“What? No I wasn’t.” Brooke scoffs, crossing her arms. “Wait. Was I?”

“Just a little.” Nicky’s pointed look makes Vanessa nudge her, letting out a snicker. “You liked to make sure everyone knew how good you were.”

“Good enough to beat you most of the times that we faced each other.” Brooke grins, and Vanessa’s excited whoop makes Nicky laugh too. 

“So she can still throw punches, huh?” Nicky reaches out, pats her shoulder. “Nice to see you after so long. Let’s exchange numbers or something, so we can at least talk more often than once every five years.”

After Nicky’s waved them goodbye, Brooke’s heart is still racing in her chest, and she leans back against the bench, letting out a breath. 

Vanessa’s leg is bouncing as she purses her lips, tilting her head. “What was that about? You feeling alright?”

“It’s just weird to see people after a while, y’know? Like, that was a completely different period of my life, and it wasn’t even that long ago, not really, but it just feels so…” Brooke trails off, shaking her head. “Jarring.”

“Enough that she knows a completely different version of you. Though competitive you sounded like a handful. I probably woulda wanted to beat your ass if I knew you back then.” Vanessa’s frankness makes Brooke snort out a laugh despite herself. 

“I would like to have seen you try.” 

“That’s more like it.”

“We were in similar positions back then and now...we’re in such different places. She’s doing something with herself, at least. She looks...satisfied and happy, she didn’t even miss boxing after leaving. Or ever look back.” Brooke bites her lip as she watches Nicky’s form on the sidewalk grow smaller and smaller the farther she gets. 

It’s hard not to feel like she’s wasting herself. Brooke likes the gym, likes the comfort, the reclusiveness. The way that the familiar walls provide a security blanket, in a way, protect her from the outside. But it’s hard to see people like Nicky who can just live, who can move on from things and continue to evolve and change despite the box that they may have earlier been placed in. Brooke doesn’t exactly know how to be like that.

“First of all, I can’t imagine you tryna work Instagram or be an influencer like Nicky, not after you asked me what an Instagram live was the other day.” Vanessa lifts an eyebrow, and Brooke raises her hands up.

“It’s been awhile since I updated the app.” 

“That being said? There’s many journeys you can take towards that. To being happy with where you are, where you wanna go. It doesn’t have to look like hers if you don’t want it to. Life doesn’t ever have a singular purpose, and yours wasn’t just boxing. Or running a stinky gym, for that matter.” Vanessa lets out a snicker and Brooke rolls her eyes, laughing despite herself.

“It’s your feet that make it stinky, anyway.”

“Liar.” Vanessa sticks her tongue out at her. “But you’ll find something. Hey, maybe it’ll be rollerskating. Maybe it’ll be something else. But you won’t know until you try more things, right?”

Brooke sighs, because what Vanessa’s saying does make sense. It doesn’t hurt, branching out a little but it does feel like mid life crisis, even if she’s decades away from reaching _that_ milestone. Brooke just hopes it isn’t too late. 


	6. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asia shoots her a look that is all too knowing. “Sure it ain’t. But if Brooke already had a girlfriend, wouldn’t you be pissed?” 
> 
> “Why would I care?” Vanessa takes a sip of her coke, because really, why would she? It wouldn’t matter. Not at all. 
> 
> “Here’s a weird thought,” Monique lets out a little snicker as she leans forward, elbows on the table, “imagine if Brooke and Kameron were dating each other.” 
> 
> “The fuck-”
> 
> “No way-”
> 
> “Aren’t they sisters?”
> 
> “They have different last names, dumbass-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter six has arrived! I appreciate all of you for being so patient with this fic, especially with the updates taking more time than they used to. Thank you all for the kind words and reviews too, they make me so happy. Tell me what you think of this one after you read it, too. And as always, Writ is the bestest beta and I love them.

“I vote ramen, ‘cause it’s been way too long since I’ve had my ramen fix.”

“Not ramen, we gotta get burritos. They’ll hit the spot right now.”

“Y’know, sometimes you make real questionable decisions.”

Monet and Monique volleying back and forth with one another is incredibly entertaining to watch, though Vanessa’s too wiped from their class to attempt to contribute to the dinner plans herself. Their weekly Monday night dinners had been Asia’s idea a few months back, brought up after class one night when they’d all been sweaty and thirsty and absolutely starving. Vanessa likes it, because it’s a chance to get closer to the three of them outside of class, learning about them past their hatred for cardio and their preferred colour of athleisure wear. 

The sushi place a couple of blocks down from the gym is one that all four of them can agree on, as Asia holds the door open for Monet and Monique with a look at Vanessa. 

“Ten bucks says they’re gonna order together and share their sushi.” Asia cocks her head towards Monique and Monet as the four of them sit down in a booth. 

Vanessa watches the way that Monet and Monique nudge each other’s elbows, trying to take up more space on the table. “Nah. They’re gonna fight over each other’s pieces and make it a whole thing.”

“You’re on.” Asia holds out her hand for Vanessa to shake. “It’s kinda cute though, not gonna lie. In an idiotic way.”

Vanessa holds back a snicker. “Do you think they’re ever gonna realize?”

“I dunno about that.” Asia shrugs. “It seems like they’re so caught up in trying to get each other’s attention that they’re completely missing it.”

“Ah. Modern romance.” Vanessa lets out a fake sigh and dodges Asia’s elbow towards her rib cage.

“They’re blind to each other, not deaf to us,” Asia mutters, “so shut that foghorn.”

_ “Bitch-” _

“Hi, my name is Simone, what can I get for you?”

The conversation doesn’t stray far after the four of them order, though the focus does shift - and Vanessa is glad that it does, from the way Asia folds her arms and scowls at the mention of a certain redheaded instructor, the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks.

“Fuck off, all of you. There’s nothing going on between me and Kameron.” 

“Uh, let me correct you. Nothing  _ yet.” _ Monique points at Asia with a flourish, looking unbothered when Asia sticks her tongue out at her. “Why don’t you ask her out? She’s clearly into you.”

“What? No she’s not.” Asia scoffs, her eyes darting around the table. “Is she?”

Vanessa snorts. “Please. As if it isn’t obvious to the entire class by the way that she flirts with you. And the way that you always flirt back.”

“I don’t  _ flirt back.  _ I don’t flirt in the first place.” Asia stuffs a piece of sushi in her mouth, though it doesn’t do much to stall the conversation the way she probably wants it to. 

_ “Oh, Kameron, your muscles are so strong and your tattoos are so hot, can I lick them?” _ Monique’s high pitched, breathy imitation makes Vanessa nearly spit out her coke, even when Asia kicks her under the table. 

_ “Come here, Asia, let me just bench press you real quick.”  _ Monet flexes her guns for good measure when imitating Kameron, and puckers her lips towards Monique, who comes closer and closer with a pout of her own before pulling back at the last second, batting her eyelashes towards Asia.

“Hateful, unbelievable, I cannot believe my own friends are slandering me like this when all I do is support y’all and put food on the table-” Asia’s words are cut off when Vanessa holds up a roll to her mouth.

“Here, this dynamite roll will help you embrace the truth.” Vanessa snickers when Asia throws her the evil eye as she chews. “‘Kay, think of it this way. If Kameron had a girlfriend right this second, would you be mad about it?”

“She doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Asia’s matter of fact tone makes Vanessa raise her eyebrows, while Monet and Monique throw looks at each other. “What? She doesn’t.”

“Now is there any way that you know that, or is that just wishful thinking on your part?” Monet asks, ignoring the way Asia lets out a huff. 

Vanessa pats Asia’s shoulder. “She better not have a girlfriend, just so you can get some puss and unwind a little, you know what I’m saying?” 

“See, now you’re one to talk, Vanj.” Asia turns towards Vanessa, brandishing a roll in her chopsticks and using it to point. “As if you and Brooke aren’t circling each other like hawks.”

“What?” Vanessa squeaks the word out because  _ hey,  _ she's having fun roasting Asia. 

But it’s too late, because Monique and Monet have matching grins on their faces and Asia looks entirely too happy to have the conversation diverted away from her. 

“Now that I think about it, you  _ do  _ spend a lot of time in her office. Does she push you up against the desk that much?” Monet wiggles her eyebrows and Vanessa lets out a scoff. 

“It ain’t like that.” 

It’s not. Brooke is…her friend. Someone who Vanessa enjoys talking to and learning more about, someone whose smile lights up the room she’s in when she’s really happy. Someone who, for being muscles stacked on a pair of legs, is really clumsy on a set of wheels. 

Someone who Vanessa wants to keep spending more time with, that’s all. It doesn’t matter if Vanessa thinks about kissing her sometimes, anyway. Her friends don’t need to know that. 

Asia shoots her a look that is all too knowing. “Sure it ain’t. But if Brooke already had a girlfriend, wouldn’t you be pissed?” 

“Why would I care?” Vanessa takes a sip of her coke, because really, why would she? It wouldn’t matter. Not at all. 

“Here’s a weird thought,” Monique lets out a little snicker as she leans forward, elbows on the table, “imagine if Brooke and Kameron were dating each other.” 

“The fuck-”

“No  _ way-” _

“Aren’t they sisters?”

“They have different last names, dumbass-”

But the idea is enough for the four of them to burst into laughter, move on to other topics. And Vanessa’s glad for it, because she can take a step away from thoughts of Brooke for a little while. 

Except that they filter back into her stream of consciousness as she sips on her soda, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. Vanessa would be lying if she ever says that she hasn’t...y’know. Thought about Brooke like that. Because Vanessa’s not blind, Brooke is hot and tall and her legs go on forever and maybe the way she smiles makes Vanessa’s heart do a flip, but-

Brooke is so much deeper than that. Their friendship is. Because Vanessa’s told her shit that she doesn’t really talk about with anyone else, and sure, she’s kept it vague, but it’s more than she lets anyone else be privy to. And Brooke’s beginning to open up to her too and it’s  _ nice  _ to see what makes Brooke tick. What thoughts lie behind her fists and the subtle lift of her eyebrow and power her brain. It feels like Brooke’s trusting her, and thinking of her as more than just an athlete at her gym. Hell, Brooke had let Vanessa take her skating, something out of her comfort zone and had just rolled with it. 

Vanessa likes it. And it’s hard not to smile as she finishes her sushi, watching Monique down glass after glass of water because she’s had too much wasabi, thinking about hanging out with Brooke even more. 

* * *

Plumbers are expensive. Brooke can fix a simple leak.

At least, that’s what she had told herself two hours ago, before being splattered with water and who knows what else and feeling a squelch in her shoes and rattling off every curse word under the sun, as she twists the wrench in her hand because the stupid thing still won’t stop leaking, damnit. 

But the bathroom is going to be unusable if Brooke can’t fix it. She’d looked up a tutorial on Youtube and everything, and the guy on the screen had made it look so easy, just with a few tools that she already has lying around in the storage closet. Who needs to shell out a couple hundred bucks for a plumber when Youtube exists?

Brooke, apparently. Because the leak is continuing to drip, drip onto the bathroom floor and is nearly filling up the bucket underneath it. 

Maybe Brooke just has to watch the video again. Maybe she’d missed something the first time around, a crucial step that has to be done in order to stop the leak. She reaches her hand up to pat the counter above her, grabbing her phone when she feels it under her hand, and-

“What’re you doing under the bathroom sink?”

“What - ow!” Brooke winces at the ache forming at the crown of her head, lifting a hand to her still speeding heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Vanessa’s voice sounds sheepish from above her, before she squats down beside Brooke and shrugs her shoulders. “You having an 80’s movie moment or something?”

“What does that even mean?”

“I dunno. Sitting in the bathroom by yourself seems deep.”

Brooke snorts, lifting the wrench in her hand the point at the pipe in front of them. “No movie scene. Just fixing a leak. Well, attempting to fix a leak,” Brooke groans, rolling out her neck, “because it’s refusing to cooperate with me.”

“Scoot over.” Vanessa elbows Brooke’s side, fitting herself in the small space beside her. “Gimme the wrench.”

“Why, you wouldn’t happen to have a hidden career in plumbing, would you?”

But Vanessa’s barely listening, leaning forward to look at the pipes. “Broken seal right under the sink. Get some sealant from Home Depot and it’ll be good as new.”

Well. Maybe Vanessa does. 

“You think as a kid my mom was gonna, in her words,  _ ‘let a crook rip us off and break everything more so that we have to pay extra ‘cause it’s all part of a money making scheme?’ _ Nah. I can find my way around some tools.” Vanessa hands the wrench back to Brooke before nudging her shoulder. “Now that’ll be two hundred dollars, please.”

“Nice try.” Brooke snorts. “But thank you. Let me grab you lunch or something?”

“Well…there is something I wanted to ask you about anyway.” Vanessa’s shifting in place, her eyes suddenly flickering back along the pipes. “And no pressure to say yes at all, ‘cause I was just wondering, but it would be real great…”

The way Vanessa trails off makes Brooke raise an eyebrow, turn towards her because she has no idea what Vanessa’s talking about, but maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t really want her to stick around for extra training anymore, or maybe Vanessa’s tired of spending time with her, or something else that’s going to make Brooke want to hide away for a little. But Brooke swallows, ignores the way that she feels her lungs filling up, and pushes on. “What? What would be great?”

“So hear me out first, don’t get mad…” Vanessa trails off, and the way she’s fiddling with the ends of her hair makes Brooke want to shift in place herself. “There’s another tournament coming up. Kameron mentioned it during class yesterday. And I know that’s not your thing, and that’s cool, but I wanted to sign up for it at a higher level than last time and maybe...you can help train me for it?”

Brooke’s about to open her mouth but doesn’t really know what to say, because Vanessa’s right that it’s not her thing, but Vanessa holds up a hand before she does. “Don’t say anything. Just think about it. I’d pay you and everything, though with the rate that all these classes are taking my money I’m about to be broke as hell. But still. Think it over?”

Vanessa’s getting up onto her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder before Brooke can even think of something to say. “So. Sealant. Home Depot. Maybe training me? I can be your padawan or something. You into Star Wars? ‘Cause I was, as a kid. Anyway, I gotta bounce, but think about it!”

Vanessa shouts the last bit as she exits through the door and Brooke can’t help but let out a breath, resting her cheek on one of her palms as she watches the slow and steady drip of the water from the pipe. 

She really does have a lot to think about. But that’s what Brooke is good at doing, after all--thinking, and thinking, and overthinking. Mulling over scenario after scenario until they all blur together and it becomes too difficult, really, to discern what is actually real and going to happen. Not that Brooke even knows. 

Vanessa’s question stays in her mind once she’s home that evening, curled up on the couch with Henry and Apollo on either side of her, the episode of  _ Parks and Recreation  _ on the television one that she’s seen a dozen times already. Brooke can hear Yvie clanging her pots and pans in the kitchen, letting out a string of curse words when the oven begins to beep, but the noises of her roommate and from the television aren’t enough to distract her mind from what it really wants to think about. 

Vanessa wants Brooke to coach her. Actually, properly, coach her. It’s not as if Brooke doesn’t do it right now, anyway - spending time with her in the gym behind a punching bag and giving Vanessa tips here and there. But it’s never for an actual purpose, to reach a goal. It’s just for Vanessa to get better, to motivate her and sue Brooke, she enjoys the time with her, too.

But coaching towards something, like the tournament that Vanessa wants to sign up for? 

It feels too...close. Boxing in the gym is safe, because punching bags and controlled matches leave some room for error but not too much, not the way a competition does. The athletes at Brooke’s gym don’t go home with broken noses or goose eggs on their heads, because they’re not fighting to win at all costs. They’re there to get better and work out and work on technique and if they sign up for tournaments? It’s on their individual coaches, such as Kameron. It’s not on Brooke if something bad happens, she’s not the one leading someone towards injury or...worse. 

If Brooke coaches Vanessa more, if she works on drills and plans workouts and and trains her, properly trains her, then it’s on her. If anything happens to Vanessa, it’s Brooke’s fault. Brooke’s going to be the one left to pick up the pieces, the one who’s going to have to tell Vanessa’s sister and mom when things inevitably go wrong. She’ll be responsible. 

Brooke can’t do that to Vanessa. She can’t be the one to ruin everything for her, the one to mess things up in a way that can’t be fixed anymore. 

“Scoot over.” Yvie plops herself down on the couch beside Brooke, pulling the blanket on Brooke’s lap to cover her own legs, too. “Want some? Latest kitchen experiment. It’s supposed to be jambalaya but I strayed a little from the recipe. Well, I strayed a lot. But still.”

“It’s 10 p.m. You’re having dinner this late?” Brooke raises an eyebrow but reaches for a spoon nonetheless, taking a bite. “This isn’t half bad.”

“Scarlet facetimed me in the middle and I got distracted.” Yvie shrugs, taking a bite of her own. “But we got here in the end.”

“What, did she hypnotize you with her boobs or something to make you forget about your dinner?” Brooke ducks out of the way when Yvie shrieks, whacking her with a pillow. 

“One day, your lonely ass is gonna get a girlfriend, and I can’t wait to tease you about it, you old hag.” Yvie cackles as she says it and Brooke can’t help but snort, too. 

“You share this old hag apartment with me. We’re both old hags.”

“Speak for yourself, grandma.” Yvie lifts up her bowl when Henry climbs into her lap, reaching his nose up towards the food. “Speaking of the apartment, I’m thinking of doing a Target run Sunday morning for a cast iron skillet. Wanna come with?”

“Can’t. Gonna be at the gym with Vanessa on Sunday morning.” Just like Brooke does every Sunday, and many other days during the week, but she can feel the way her heart turns in her chest, the way it feels like there’s a current running through her fingertips because…

Well, Brooke still doesn’t know what to do. 

“Hello? Did you hear anything I just said?” Yvie’s snapping her fingers in front of her face and Brooke jumps, causing Apollo to let out an annoyed meow. 

“Maybe? Not really. Sorry.” Brooke mumbles, shifting Apollo on her lap. “Repeat that?”

“I was gonna say we can go Saturday instead. But let’s backtrack, why do you look like you just swallowed a bag of nails or something?” Yvie tilts her head slightly, and Brooke can’t help but make a face at her description. 

“Nails? Jesus.” The mental image is a little too strong in Brooke’s brain for her liking, but Yvie is unperturbed. 

“What’s up?”

Brooke sighs, her hand scratching Apollo’s chin the way that he likes it. “Vanessa asked me to coach her.”

“And? You’re already doing that.” Yvie raises an eyebrow.

Brooke shuffles on the couch, turning more towards her. “Yeah, but I’m not  _ officially _ coaching her right now, I’m just there to hold the punching bag and sometimes throw her pointers, it’s not like I’m her personal coach and responsible if things happen to her and it ends up being my fault.”

“Alright, hold up.” Yvie covers her mouth as she chews, though she still gets her words out. “Your fault? And who says anything is going to happen to her?”

“I’m not saying it will, but if it did.” Brooke sinks herself further into the couch cushions. “Boxing competitively is a lot, y’know? It’s not just easy matches and punches, it’s hits to the head and occasional tears and stitches. It’s shit going down that you don’t feel until after the match is over.”

“And? Vanessa’s a grown woman. And from what you’ve told me about her, it seems like she can handle herself just fine.” 

It’s true that Yvie’s heard a lot of stories from Brooke about Vanessa. About the hilarious things that she says, the way she cheers anytime there’s a water break during her classes, the way she brought Brooke some timbits that one time. But the way Yvie’s looking at Brooke with eyes that are too knowing makes her want to shift in place, pull a cushion on top of herself.

“But what if something happens and she can’t?”

“Here’s the thing. Bad things happen all the time. When you step onto the street, you can be hit by a car. Hell, a vending machine can fall on you. You can get attacked by a vulture or something-”

“I’m not so sure about that last one-”

“-and honestly, there’s no stopping any of it. Shit happens. And knowing Vanessa, she seems like the type to want to train more and more and compete more too. She’s going to do it regardless of whether you’re there or not. Wouldn’t you rather be the one training her and making sure that she’s as prepared as she can be? That she’s ready? Isn’t it better that she learn from the best in the first place?” Yvie’s eyes are sympathetic, though the effect is slightly ruined as she takes a bite of her jambalaya. 

“Who’s saying I’m the best?” Brooke has to hold back a laugh at the way Yvie’s rolling her eyes.

“Don’t start fishing for compliments with me, you know what I mean. If she’s competing anyway, support her. Be there for her. Beat up anyone that she loses against.”

“Not very sportsmanlike.”

“Regardless, maybe you being there can help prevent any chance of something shitty happening, because you can catch things. And you actually care for her as a person rather than just an athlete, which is more than can be said for many coaching relationships.” Yvie shrugs.

“I don’t do coaching, though. I never have before, not properly.” It’s another reminder that takes over Brooke’s thought process, because she doesn’t know how to refine someone else’s skills, not really. “What if I’m shit at it and it makes her crash and burn in a competition?”

Yvie shoots her a look. “Do you really think that’ll happen?”

“It could.”

“You take what you already know about boxing and what you’ve learned from your own coaches in the past, and you pass it on. That’s all it’s gonna take. You two can learn the rest together.” Yvie’s hopeful smile makes her words sound like the easiest thing to do in the world, but it’s not that simple. It can’t be. 

“This isn’t an elementary school group project.”

“Yeah, it is. Gym class.” Yvie snickers, before reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Honestly? I feel like it could be good for both of you. You get to spend more time with her, don’t you?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“As if you don’t absolutely love it and come home from each practice session with her with a million stories about her.” Yvie’s knowing look is paired with a snicker, and it makes Brooke scowl.

“I’m just telling you about my day,  _ Yvette.” _

“Not the full name,  _ Brooke Lynn.  _ But either way, you know you’d enjoy coaching her. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be jealous if someone else started coaching her one on one?”

“What? No, I wouldn’t care. She can do what she wants.” Brooke scoffs, because it wouldn’t matter. None of Brooke’s business what Vanessa does, anyway.

“You’re as convincing as fifteen year old me was while trying to convince my parents that no, I didn’t have a hickey on my neck from my chem lab partner. Spoiler alert, didn’t work.” Yvie has a shit-eating grin on her face that makes Brooke roll her eyes, nudge her side.

“Shut up.”

“Do it. Coach her. You know you want to.”

Yvie’s right, which is a problem in itself. Brooke really does want to. And when the clock on her bedside table passes one in the morning because she’s unable to fall asleep, she finds herself reaching for her phone.

_ BLH: Fine, I’ll train you. _

The three dots at the bottom of their conversation pop up immediately, and Brooke rubs her eyes as she waits for Vanessa’s reply. It’s not a text that comes through, but rather an audio message that Brooke eagerly presses play on. 

_ “BIIIIIITCH! Are you serious?! Yesss! This is gonna be so good, you won’t regret it I swear. Question, can we play Eye of the Tiger the first time we train? I feel like it’s gonna set the mood real well. Also, why you still awake? Go to sleep. NIGHT!” _

Brooke has to stifle a laugh as she shuts off her phone, placing it back on her bedside table. She’s not sure how it’s going to work - coaching Vanessa, trying to recall her days of training under her dad and what she’d do day in, day out, to refine her skills. But it’ll be interesting to try and get back into that mindset.

Maybe Brooke can start now. She’s not going to fall asleep anytime soon, anyway.

It feels strange turning on her laptop and going to the boxing folder, then the subfolder of training videos organized by year, with the most recent being five years prior. The folder is a time capsule filled with videos taken at the gym of Brooke training with her dad to watch and observe her own techniques, all of her tells as a boxer. She remembers watching them during practices back then, her dad pointing out moments where she’d left herself vulnerable to attacks, others where she would have been able to strike more efficiently. 

Now, when Brooke clicks on a video, she’s not watching for herself, not anymore. Now? She’s watching for her dad. 

He’s in the blue t-shirt that he always used to wear, the watch with the cracked screen on his wrist as he holds up punching mitts in front of Brooke’s face on the screen. A Brooke five years ago with less worry lines on her face, less bags underneath her eyes. One with muscles that flexed as she moved, with an expression of steely determination that’s almost surprising to see now, so many years later. 

_ “Don’t drop those arms. Even if you’re taking a second to breathe, keep them up.”  _

Shit. 

The sound of her dad’s voice is like a cold gust of air to Brooke because she hasn’t heard it in so long, and the familiarity of his intonation, his rhythm pulls her right back. It’s as if he could still be here, as if she could wake up tomorrow and go to the gym and practice like nothing has happened, like it hasn’t been five years of trying to cope and heal and not necessarily succeeding. 

_ “Good one. Try that combo again.” _

Brooke still has the tank she’s wearing in the video, she’s sure of it. Another item that she hasn’t let go of.

_ “Step sideways, not always backwards. You know that. Don’t get cornered in the ring.” _

She can keep watching these videos and try to relive the moments, the practices with her dad and give into the longing that clings to her heart like debris, that she’s never truly been able to shake off. It does provide that short term relief, the feeling of seeing her dad happy, breathing, alive. Seeing how good he was. 

_ “That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s take five, grab some water. Then we’re gonna keep going.” _

But it also shows Brooke a past that isn’t here anymore. A time that she’s not going to get back no matter how hard she tries to manifest it, because she can’t step into her computer screen into a simpler time that she used to take for granted. It’s a fact that she knows well, one that’s been repeated to her by friends and family members and therapists and one that her brain ignores on default, despite the way that doing so can make the knife twist in a little deeper. 

_ “Get your gloves back on, we’ll-” _

Brooke shuts her laptop, pushing it to the other side of the bed before her brain can protest. Apollo lets out a  _ mrrp  _ at the movement on the bed, and Brooke reaches out and scratches his chin, trying to ignore the silence in the room that feels deafening with her screen off. 

She tends to get sucked in. It’s a fact that Brooke knows well. That when she finds something, she clings to it until it loses all meaning, until the sentimental value is diminished. 

But Brooke isn’t going to now, with the old videos. Because sure, it’s her dad in shitty old iPhone video quality and it’s more of him than she’s had in ages, but…

It’s not helpful. Not right now.

Not that any of Brooke’s coping methods are, but she’s trying. Or at least, she’s going to start.

Brooke can almost hear the faint cheer of her old therapist in her ears, thrilled that she’s finally being listened to. Sure, it’s something insignificant, something small, and maybe part of Brooke really does want to open up her computer again, rifle through the videos, but she wont. Her hands are buried in Apollo’s fur, anyway, and why would she want the purring to stop?

Her cat is a big enough reason for now to avoid watching them, falling back into the memories. He’s a start. And maybe that’s all Brooke has to do, find more reasons to keep herself grounded and in the present.

But first, she has to find another way to prepare herself to properly coach, though that’s a problem she can save for the morning.


	7. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mom, I’m not going on a date with your financial advisor.” Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that her mom won’t hesitate to rip her a new one for it if she catches her.
> 
> “He’s young and tall and wears a suit.” Vanessa’s mom points the spatula in her hand in her direction. “Don’t you wanna date a suit?”
> 
> “I’m pretty sure it’s you that wants to date a suit.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow as she hops onto the counter, her legs dangling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter time - thank you guys for being so patient and waiting for this one. Writing is going a bit slow for me these days, which means slower updates. To anyone who's left a review on this story, hi I love you, thanks for being great and giving me even more motivation to write. Seeing people are actually reading and enjoying a fic because they say so is a good kick in the butt for any author's muse. Let me know what you think of this chapter, too. As always, thank you writ for betaing <3

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not, he’s cute! And polite too, you know how much I like that.” 

“Mom, I’m not going on a date with your financial advisor.” Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that her mom won’t hesitate to rip her a new one for it if she catches her.

“He’s young and tall and wears a suit.” Vanessa’s mom points the spatula in her hand in her direction. “Don’t you wanna date a suit?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that wants to date a suit.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow as she hops onto the counter, her legs dangling. 

Vanessa’s mom shrugs her shoulders. “Just tryna help you out, baby. You haven’t dated anyone in a while, have you? Who was the last one? That ugly looking-”

“No need to roast my exes.” Vanessa makes a face when her mom snickers.

Vanessa appreciates her mom’s intentions, but sometimes they’re a little off the mark. Or a lot off the mark, from the guys that she’s tried to set Vanessa up with lately. 

It’s not as if Vanessa isn’t out to her mom. She is, or rather, has tried to be. Multiple times. The first time was in high school, when Vanessa had kissed her best friend and cried about it to her mom after her friend had started to avoid her, and her mom had told her that it was a phase that she’d grow out of. And then there was college, where Vanessa’s mom would meet her various girlfriends with brightly coloured hair and piercings and eclectic fashion senses, only to call them her _close friends._ It’s the difference in how Vanessa’s mom has treated her ex-boyfriends versus ex-girlfriends, paying way more attention to the boys even when they hadn’t been anything to write home about. 

Vanessa’s tried. But it’s hard to make the point stick when her mom laughs off the idea of having a girlfriend, changing the subject a little too quickly. But hey, it’s better than her mom wanting to disown her. Vanessa will take it.

A knock on the door gets Vanessa out of her head and she hops off the counter to pull it open, as her mom sets the dishes on the table. The pastry box in Alexis’ hands makes Vanessa light up and she grabs it, bringing it to the table while Alexis follows her inside. 

“Nice to see you, too, Vanj.” Alexis sits down across from her, sticking out her tongue.

Vanessa sticks hers out right back. “I saw you earlier today at our place, chill. Didn’t even have time to miss ya.”

Their mom, at the head of the table between them both, waves her hands. “Shh. Don’t ruin the family dinner ambiance.”

Alexis snickers. “As if we don’t get into at least two arguments every time we all have dinner together.”

The monthly dinners remind Vanessa of a simpler time when the three of them were always under one roof. Her mom would make an extra effort to get home from work on time, cook them something that they could all eat together rather than something for Alexis and Vanessa to reheat when they got home from school. It’s nice that no matter how old they get, the dinners have stayed the same. The dishes are the ones that Vanessa’s enjoyed since being a kid, ones that she’s tried to replicate in her own kitchen with little success. But at least she still gets to enjoy them now, as an adult, at her mom’s. 

“Pass me the rice.” Alexis holds her hands out, wiggling her fingers, and Vanessa’s about to reach for the corningware before noticing the glinting on Alexis’ wrist.

“Where’s that bracelet from? Damn, Rob splurged. Good for him.” Vanessa has to admit, Rob doesn’t have bad taste. The bracelet on Alexis’ wrist is delicate, the stones on it sparkling under the light.

“It’s from dad.” The nonchalant tone of Alexis’ voice makes Vanessa’s fork clang harder on her plate than she intends it to.

She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? He’s buying your love now? That’s what it’s come to?”

“Don’t be jealous that he’s buying me gifts and not you.” Alexis sniffs, before taking another sip of her drink. “At least I’m making an effort with him.”

“I’m not jeal-”

“Stubbornness doesn’t get you anywhere. He says he misses you, ‘cept you won’t give him the time of the day.” Alexis shrugs, and Vanessa can feel her hands balling into fists.

“‘Cause he doesn’t deserve it, that’s why.”

“Not that he’d want you around with that attitude anyway.” Alexis raises her eyebrows, and Vanessa’s seeing red, she really is, because _fuck_ her sister-

Vanessa’s mom’s hand is up at her shoulders, blocking her from standing up before she can do so. “Don’t punch your sister.”

“I’m going.” Vanessa growls out, trying to scoot her chair back because she hates it, the smugness radiating off of Alexis for absolutely no reason. When she has nothing to be proud about. 

“No you’re not. Sit down and eat your food.” Their mom looks tired as she takes a drink of her wine, nearly draining the glass.

Vanessa scowls. “How do you not care about this? Doesn’t it bother you?”

Because heaven knows, it bothers Vanessa. It doesn’t make sense, their dad wanting to connect now after not giving a shit for so long, and why is Alexis playing right into it? Why should their dad just get whatever he wants whenever it’s convenient for him?

Their mom sighs. “Because I am an adult, and so is Alexis. And so are you, if you’d mature a bit. It’s not a bad idea to give people second chances.”

“He’s not buying my affection back. Fuck that.” Vanessa crosses her arms. “How’d he even afford that bracelet, anyway? He’s never been the type to be financially stable.”

“If you’d ever talked with him, you’d know he’s turning his life around. He’s doing better.” Alexis’ smug tone is nauseating, enough to make Vanessa’s skin crawl.

It all sounds so fake, so put on. Like their dad’s trying hard to impress them and the fact that Alexis is buying into it? Pathetic, in Vanessa’s opinion. 

She can do better. They all can. Not that Alexis seems to want to do so.

Vanessa’s brain feels like it’s floating inside of a dark cloud as she leaves her mother’s apartment with Alexis. The subway is only a few blocks away, but it feels so much longer to Vanessa while trying not to talk to her sister, as to not give her the satisfaction she wants. Because she knows Alexis thinks she’s in the right, and that she always is, as the older one. That Vanessa’s eventually going to give in and follow her advice. 

Her phone buzzes as they wait at a busy intersection, and Vanessa almost misses the signal to cross when she sees the picture that pops up on her screen.

It’s a cat so fluffy that it’s reminiscent of a mountain lion, and Vanessa can’t help but squeal. Brooke’s mentioned her cats before but Vanessa’s never seen pictures of them, because she’d definitely remember such a sight. 

The cat in the picture is stretched out on a couch, his paws up in the air as he sleeps. Vanessa hits the text notification that follows, trying to ignore the smile growing on her own face.

_BLH: Henry’s as excited for our practice tomorrow as we are. His hands are already protecting his face._

_VVM: WHY IS YOUR CAT SO CUTE_

_VVM: sorry no caps lock_

_VVM: but also yes caps lock_

_BLH: You should meet him and his brother sometime!_

_VVM: PLEASE_

“Alexis? We should get a cat.” Vanessa nudges her sister as they descend the steps towards the subway.

Alexis rolls her eyes. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”

Vanessa doesn’t respond right away, in favour of looking at the second picture that pops up on her phone, the grey cat sleeping on Brooke’s coffee table. “Bet Rob would like one.”

“He already gets enough p-”

“Don’t complete that sentence, ew!” Vanessa pretends to dry heave as her sister cracks up, the ice that has been building up between them the entire evening breaking into pieces. 

Vanessa knows Alexis and her will be fine because they always are, for how much they bicker. It would just be easier if neither of them were so stubborn. Not that Vanessa’s going to be the one to give in this time. 

* * *

Brooke’s already in the gym when Vanessa pushes her way in the next morning, trying to hide the yawn behind her hand that betrays the fact that it’s 6:45 and the sun still hasn’t risen outside. Vanessa’s eyebrows push together when Brooke spins almost comically to face her, coffee in one hand and breakfast burrito in the other. 

“Why are you so perky this morning?” Vanessa herself isn’t, that’s for sure. Not when she’s used to pressing snooze on her alarms until the last possible moment before she has to get up for work. 

Brooke shrugs, though her energy is nervous, her foot tapping on the floor. “This is our first training session.”

“You’ve been training me for months.” Vanessa replies, raising an eyebrow as she does, and Brooke shrugs.

“Yeah, but this is the first _actual_ session. I’m coaching you. Trying to get things into your brain.”

“You’ve done that plenty with your terrible singing. There’s no way I can get that belting out of my brain, ever.” Vanessa snickers, reaching out to pat Brooke’s shoulder as she pouts. “Kidding.”

“I’m a great singer. I got the gumption,” Brooke sniffs, “I can’t help it when Celine is on.”

“Is that why your workout playlist has so many ballads?”

Vanessa ducks out of the way when Brooke grumbles, reaching over to shove her shoulder. “Tell me why I should coach you again?”

“‘Cause I’m a delight, and you know it.” Vanessa grins, batting her eyelashes, and Brooke rolls her eyes.

“Go get changed, you delight. We have stuff to do.”

Vanessa pauses at the locker room doors once she’s in her workout clothes at the sight in front of her. There’s a mosaic of pages ripped out of notebooks scattered along the floor, interspersed with diagrams drawn on chart paper, all neatly arranged while Brooke sits in the middle.

“Wanna explain?” Vanessa’s not sure if Brooke hears her at first, from the way she’s furiously scribbling on the page in her lap, but then Brooke’s head comically bobs up as her fingers tap on her knee.

Brooke shifts in place. “Okay, so I didn’t exactly know where to start. I mean, I was thinking I could try and think back to how my dad used to coach me but that’s not a box worth opening right now, y’know? I mean I could, but repression is way more tempting. So then I was looking up coaching methods and what works for one person may not work for another, and then I started thinking about how I really _didn’t_ know what style worked for you best and what would be the most effective way for us to collaborate and...” Brooke cuts herself off as she takes a breath, weakly pointing to the mess around her. “So we have this.”

Vanessa whistles, crouches down beside Brooke while trying not to rustle any of the papers. “There’s a lot to untangle here.”

“We can’t go wrong with being too prepared, right? At least we can try everything and then maybe one thing is going to work and I’ll actually be useful as a coach.” Brooke shrugs sheepishly.

“What are you out here talking about, useful as a coach? You’re plenty useful. Look at how much I’ve improved over the last few months.” Vanessa throws a look at Brooke, who for once, looks slightly self conscious, from the way she fiddles with her sleeves. “You’re telling me our practices together haven’t made a difference in my fighting skills?”

“Maybe a little,” Brooke admits, “but how do you know any of it was me? You’re taking classes at the same time, you’re building that muscle memory. That plays a big part.”

“And how would I build muscle memory if it wasn’t for our practices?” Brooke looks unconvinced, so Vanessa carries on. “Look. I ain’t asking you ‘cause I think you’re an Olympic champion boxer, or anything like that. I’m asking you ‘cause you know your shit and you can handle me in the gym and know how to get me to cool down. I need that.”

Vanessa thinks back to their last practice, when all Brooke had to do was hand Vanessa a granola bar to give her some sugar and Vanessa found herself able to focus, less frustrated during their drills. It’s almost like Brooke is learning the little parts of her that don’t necessarily come up in conversation, more so the ones that only become obvious when you truly pay attention.

She nudges Brooke’s side. “I don’t care if you haven’t coached before. I’ve never been a boxer before any of this shit. You think I know what I’m doing? I don’t care if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Okay, but I really, really, don’t know what I’m doing-”

Vanessa shrugs. “Well then, we make a good team. If we’re gonna do this blindly, at least we’ve got each other for the journey.” 

Brooke gathers up some of the papers around her, holding them out in front of Vanessa. “We won’t be doing it _completely_ blindly, though, I was thinking we could try out methods that are evidence based and see what works the best and what leads to carryover-”

“I don’t know why you’re bringing up some academic shit right now, in a gym of all places, but what we’re gonna do is try shit until something sticks.” Vanessa grabs the pile of papers in Brooke’s hands, smoothes them out.

Brooke snorts. “That’s basically what I said.”

“Be less boring about it, then.”

It’s enough to get Brooke smiling, though, reducing the nervous energy that is radiating off of her in waves. “Get your gear on. We’re going to get to work.”

“ _That’s_ more like it.”

* * *

And so it begins. Vanessa’s alarm clock is set an hour and a half earlier every morning, the sun rising in tandem with her body heat during her first workout of each day. Brooke doesn’t pull any punches with the conditioning routines that she drafts every morning - Vanessa had thought in the past that Kameron was bad with the cardio and strength outside of the ring, but Brooke’s making her feel like she’s a beginner again, from how much her muscles are complaining with every move she makes.

Take today, for example. The circuit that Brooke’s written out on her clipboard is torturous, positively torturous, and Vanessa knows that she has to get through it eight times, but she’s only on her third round and she’s already about to collapse, never to get up again. She wipes the sweat off of her forehead before resting her hands on her knees, bending over in half to try and catch her breath, before Brooke’s voice behind her rings like a bell.

“Mountain climbers, let’s go! No stopping.”

“Bitch, do you want me to die?” Vanessa pants out as she gets on all fours nonetheless, her arms shaking as she presses her palms into the ground. 

“No. But what I don’t want is for your endurance to putter out during a match at the worst time. You’re gonna have to build it, and not only that, but learn to push through when it feels like you can’t.”

Maybe if Vanessa wasn’t currently dripping sweat onto the mats below her, her arms about to give out, then she’d be moved by the almost poetic words. But she’s too out of breath to care, especially when all she can focus on as she stands back up is the way her legs feel like jelly and her arms like anchors that are about to break off. 

Brooke’s look is sympathetic as Vanessa rolls out her shoulders, preparing to do her set of burpees next. “It’s not always going to be this difficult. Your body is going to build and build and build that strength and endurance and soon, you’ll be able to do all of it without breaking a sweat.”

Vanessa has to pause as she crouches down to shoot Brooke a look. “See, I’d believe that, pants on fire, if you weren’t making the circuits longer and more intense every damn session. How’s it gonna get easier if you keep upping the difficulty?”

“You haven’t died yet, have you?” Brooke sips on her iced coffee almost languidly, not a hair out of place, and Vanessa has to hold back a grumble.

She’s going to kill Brooke one of these days, she really is, if Brooke doesn’t kill her with these workouts first.

But Vanessa does trust Brooke, and so keeps pushing herself, follows each routine as best as she can and not skipping reps if she can help it. Sure, she can’t move her muscles without pain, and Silky and A’keria look at her funny even though she swears that her waddling isn’t because she’s getting some good dick, she’s just working out, that’s all, but...it’s worth it. It has to be worth it, Vanessa isn’t going to allow herself to believe anything else. She’s pushing her body to the limit for a purpose, and that purpose is to kick some ass in a boxing ring and feel good about it. 

That’s what Vanessa tells herself at least, as more and more of her hours not spent at work become dedicated to training, going for massages for her sore muscles, and watching old boxing matches instead of Netflix whenever Brooke gives her boxers to research. It doesn’t feel like it’s a drastic change because it’s still fun to Vanessa, pushing her in ways that she’s never expected.

A’keria gives Vanessa an apprehensive look, though, when she hides one too many yawns behind her palm one day at work. She’s not necessarily falling asleep as she does the client’s makeup, but her morning workout today had been more grueling than usual, and having to stand for hours on end at the moment isn’t doing her sore limbs any favours. 

“Can I ask you something, Vanj?” A’keria’s eyes remain on the client in front of her, the comb in between her fingers expertly parting the woman’s hair. 

Vanessa squints her eyes as she blends the shadows on her client’s crease, trying to get both eyes to match. “Yeah, what?”

“Why are you doing all of this? The boxing, the gym?” A’keria looks up at Vanessa, the motions of her hands stalled. “What’s the point?”

“Didn’t I tell you at the beginning? Alexis made me so I’d stop blowing up in her face.” It may be the short answer, Vanessa knows, but it works for now. 

A’keria sighs, and her eyes are too knowing, too willing to look into Vanessa’s soul. “Sure, I get a couple of classes here and there. But you’re running yourself ragged.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Am not.”

Because she’s not. It’s just what she needs to do, and how’s she going to get anywhere if she doesn’t? The next tournament is coming up soon, and if she does well in this one at the higher level then hey, maybe she can compete even more regularly and maybe have a proper match and-

“Just promise me that you’re taking care of yourself. And I don’t want an empty promise of you just nodding your head and saying _yes, Kiki, I will_ , I want an actual promise that you’re gonna put yourself first.” A’keria points her comb towards Vanessa and she feels like she’s five, being reprimanded by her kindergarten teacher.

“I am putting myself first. Have you seen my guns? That’s self love, baby.” Vanessa flexes her bicep, pretends to give it a kiss and it’s worth it when the client in front of Vanessa lets out a giggle, and even more so when A’keria rolls her eyes. 

“Tell me why I still care about your stupid ass.”

Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat. “‘Cause you love me.” 

“Somehow.” A’keria mutters, turning back towards her model. “But if you don’t take care of yourself while doing this boxing nonsense, I’m gonna have to whoop your ass.”

“Duly noted.” Vanessa snickers, and it’s enough for A’keria, whose frown lines smooth out between her eyebrows. “Didn’t know you were so worried ‘bout me.”

A’keria shoots her a look. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re one of my best friends. And who else would listen to me griping about my man? You think Silky pays any attention to anything but Jerry Springer on the TV?”

“You’ve got a point there. So, update me,” Vanessa leans towards A’keria, a conspiratorial tone in her voice, “are y’all back together yet? Or are you still leaving him on read for exactly seventy two hours before texting him back? Which, by the way, makes no sense as a strategy.”

“It’s kept him for this long, hasn’t it?” A’keria shrugs her shoulders, a proud smile playing on her lips. “He always comes back. It’s like I have him on a rubber band that always snaps back into place. Never fails.”

“That makes no damn sense, and you know it. But men never do.”

Vanessa’s glad she’s not with a guy for now. She’s always found it so confusing, with the games and the signals that inevitably get crossed and the misunderstandings and it’s much easier, really, hearing about it secondhand from her friends.

Not that being interested in girls can be any better, from what she notices at their next practice before the next tournament. Vanessa had her session with Brooke in the morning and she’s back now hours later in the gym, a place that she feels like she never leaves anymore, curled up on a bench in the locker room and watching the scene that’s unfolding in front of her.

To any ordinary bystander, this scenario would be representative of any millennials - a girl swiping through Tinder with her friends providing commentary beside her. But what Vanessa really sees is Monique showing off the various pictures that pop up on her phone, while remaining completely oblivious to Monet sulking on the bench that is perpendicular to her. Sulking may be a stretch, but Vanessa can tell that the force with which Monet tugs on the zipper of her gym bag isn’t typical - it’s a sign that she’s unhappy with the situation.

“What about this girl? She put a quote from _Shark Tale_ in her bio. And she lives on the east side. Imma swipe right.” Monique holds up her phone, and the brunette on her screen is cute, yes, but Monet’s shoulders slump a little and it becomes just a little bit harder to react in a blase way.

“Uh, yeah. Super cute. Love that.” Vanessa gives Monet a thumbs up, and she can feel Asia’s elbow in her side because of how unconvincing she is but hey, she’s trying.

She scoots down slightly on the bench, leans over to whisper. “What do you expect me to even say?”

“I dunno, but flashing a thumbs up ain’t gonna do the trick.” Asia mutters under her breath, jerking her head towards Monet, who’s begun to braid her hair with a scowl on her face. 

Vanessa shrugs her shoulders, trying to keep her voice from exploding as much as it wants to. “So what the hell do we do?”

“What do you mean, what do we do? We don’t do anything because they’re adults, and they can sort it out themselves.” Asia’s look is pointed, one that Vanessa delicately chooses to ignore.

“We can’t do that. They’ll be miserable. Neither of them even realizes how much they like each other, and they’ll just keep doing this stupid dance.” Vanessa chances a glance towards Monique, who’s slowly lowering her phone back towards herself after Monet turns away with a curt nod. “This is ridiculous.”

Asia sighs. “You think they’re gonna hear a word we say? _Hey, dumbasses, you both have a crush on your best friend, spoiler alert, it’s each other_. They’re gonna tell us that we’re being silly and they’ll be in even more denial.”

Vanessa bites her lip, because the jealousy that’s radiating off of Monet is hard to miss, except apparently for Monique, who shuts off her phone and sighs as she stands up. “Ugh. You’re right. Doesn’t make this shit easier to watch.”

Vanessa keeps an eye on them throughout the class, nearly catching a jab in the face from Asia in the process. Monet and Monique seem to be back to their normal selves, bickering as they practice their drills but Vanessa doesn’t miss the lingering glance from Monet as Monique fills up her water bottle, or the way that Monique opens up her mouth to say something, eyes wide, as they finish an exercise before abruptly closing it. Vanessa feels like she’s watching a movie where she just wants to yell at the main characters to kiss already, except it’s two of her friends who should be together but are only now beginning to realize how much they like each other. 

“Don’t do it.” Brooke’s holding back a smile at her desk when Vanessa falls into the chair across from her once the class is over, after regaling Brooke with Monique and Monet’s situation. 

“Not doing anything. But I want to.” Vanessa slouches in her seat, resting her cheek on her palm. “Those two clowns are perfect for each other. Hell, I thought they were already together when I first started here.”

It’s not a lie. Vanessa remembers the way that Monique and Monet would always finish each other’s sentences, and be holding on to each other in some form or another. They still do, though Vanessa does notice more hesitancy lately in the way they reach out, more tentativeness in their words.

Brooke shakes her head, leaning forward on her desk. “You have to let them work it out themselves. Forcing something between them when neither of them seems fully ready is only going to lead to a mess.”

“You say that as if we’re all not already a mess.”

Brooke snorts. “True. You most of all.”

" _Rude-_ ”

“Kidding.”

“Good, you better be.” Vanessa sniffs, though she can’t keep a straight face for long, not when Brooke’s already holding back a laugh.

Brooke shrugs, thumbing through a pile of papers on the corner of her desk before pulling one from the stack, turning it towards Vanessa. The flyer for the upcoming tournament is a bit of an eyesore with the neon colours, but Vanessa tries to ignore the attempts at graphic design as Brooke points at the upcoming date. “Isn’t the tournament that you all signed up for coming up soon, anyway? It’s at least a three hour drive to get there. Maybe the two of them will talk it out during the ride.”

“Or they’ll ignore the huge elephant in the room and just pretend like absolutely nothing is going on.” Vanessa shrugs. “I feel like it could go either way.”

“Sooner or later, they’ll reach a point where they have no choice but to confront it. And when they do, they’ll see what’s been in front of them this whole time.” Brooke leans back in her own seat, and Vanessa can’t help but raise an eyebrow. 

“That’s somehow the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Are you a secret romantic?”

Brooke makes a face. “Most definitely not. I’ll take a comedy over watching something like _The Notebook_ any day.”

Vanessa’s mouth drops open. “You take that back. That’s my favourite movie!”

“ _The Notebook_? Really? You can’t call me sappy if that’s your favourite. Do you cry every time you watch it, too?” 

“Maybe?” Vanessa raises her hands in surrender. “I can’t help it! It just tugs on the heartstrings.”

“Why watch it if it just makes you sad?” Brooke has confusion written across her face, and Vanessa has to pause while she thinks of an answer.

“I dunno. It’s sad but it’s a good sad, y’know? The kind that makes you feel something ‘cause even if there’s loss they still had so much love, and those moments are the ones that make everything else worth going through.” 

Vanessa can’t help the longing in her voice because as silly as it sounds, she wants something like that. Something worth fighting for. Maybe it’s cliche, maybe it’s the thoughts of a teenage Vanessa from all those years ago who’d watched the movie for the very first time, but she still wants that feeling. 

But who knows. Teenage Vanessa had also wanted a perm back in the day, and _that_ had been a mess that had taken years to grow out. 

“You’re the secret romantic between the two of us.” Brooke tilts her head and Vanessa shrugs, because she can’t deny it, not really. 

“Who said it was a secret? I got taste between the two of us.” Vanessa can’t help but snicker at Brooke’s mock offended face.

“Just for that, we’re starting half an hour earlier tomorrow for training.”

Vanessa though, is unperturbed. “Liar. You hate waking up early as it is. I know you too well.”

“Maybe.” But the way Brooke’s eyes are glimmering, the way she has a grin of her own, somehow makes Vanessa want to know her even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


	8. chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m here, I’m here, I’m not late, we still have t minus one minute before we’re supposed to leave, so you could say I’m early, hello!” And there Vanessa is, skidding to a stop in front of the group and wasting no time in holding up a fist for Monique to bump. 
> 
> Brooke doesn’t know why everything becomes so much more fun when Vanessa’s around. Maybe it’s the way she’s always smiling, or how her energy level never really dips. Maybe it’s the commentary. But Brooke does know that she’s never going to be tired of any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been awhile. Real life has been exhausting both physically and mentally, but a burst of inspiration today has led to a completed chapter, yay! I hate having ages between chapters but life means that for this fic, it has started to happen. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless, and as always, please do tell me what you think! Thank you writ for being the best beta and friend, ily <3

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Cool, right?” Kameron leans against the vehicle, seemingly unbothered by Asia’s aghast expression.

“Cool? It looks like a kidnapper van!” 

Asia raises an eyebrow, and Brooke has to admit that she’s kind of right. The van has a good five rows, enough space to fit all of the athletes going to the tournament and then some, but the white paint job and blacked out windows does make the vehicle look a bit suspicious.

“It was the economical choice!” Kameron sniffs, and hoisting her bag over her shoulder. “Get in losers, we’re going road tripping.”

Brooke holds out a hand in front of Kameron, using her other one to shield her eyes from the sunrise casting pink glows against the brick wall of the gym. “Keys? Want me to drive?”

Kameron twists the key ring on her index finger, shaking her head. “You were asleep five minutes ago at your desk. I’m not gonna let you run all of us off the road because you’re drowsy.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose at the phrasing. “Fair. Shall I navigate, then? Actually…” 

She trails off when sees Asia walking up to the group, duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and turns back to Kameron, who’s straightened up her posture after spotting Asia. “Maybe I’ll leave that to Asia.”

Kameron frowns. “Huh? What does that mean?”

“Asia! Wanna tell Kameron what to do for three hours straight?” Brooke gestures at Asia to come closer, and Kameron lets out a groan at the sudden realization.

Asia, for her part, looks positively delighted, opening up Google Maps on her phone. “You bet I do. Also, Kameron, if we don’t get to stop at Starbucks I’m personally going to wrangle the wheel from you ‘cause that just isn’t right.”

Brooke presses her lips together when Kameron gives her a long suffering look. “You’ll thank me later. It’ll be fun for both of you.”

She turns away from the two of them as Asia starts to go over routes that they can take, scanning the faces of the athletes who have already arrived for their bright and early drive. Some are still in sweatpants, topknots balancing on their heads while others toss coffee back like they’re taking shots, and Brooke’s not sure who is actually more relatable. However, the person that she’s looking for the most, the one who’s always loud and excited even at such an early hour doesn’t seem to be here just yet-

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m not late, we still have t minus one minute before we’re supposed to leave, so you could say I’m early, _hello!”_ And there Vanessa is, skidding to a stop in front of the group and wasting no time in holding up a fist for Monique to bump. 

Brooke doesn’t know why everything becomes so much more fun when Vanessa’s around. Maybe it’s the way she’s always smiling, or how her energy level never really dips. Maybe it’s the commentary. But Brooke does know that she’s never going to be tired of any of it. 

Vanessa’s drops her bag onto the floor with a _thump_ and stands on her tippy toes to wave to Asia before she freezes mid movement, and the sudden eye contact makes Brooke’s breath hitch in her throat, too, no matter what a good friend of hers Vanessa is by now. 

“You’re coming with us?” The hopeful tone in Vanessa’s voice is unmistakable as she bounds closer, stopping right in front of her and Brooke has to stop herself from reaching out and doing something ridiculous like putting an arm around her or hugging her.

She keeps her grip tight on her bag instead, shrugging a little. “You think I’d leave my student to compete on her own?”

Brooke’s been noncommittal over the last week, volleying her options back and forth in her head about whether she should go with the others. Her immediate instinct had been to say no when Kameron had asked, because why would she even want to go to a competition in the first place, when the atmosphere is one that she’s been trying to avoid for so long, if only to stay away from the memories that are bound to resurface?

But there had been a small voice in her head that had spoken up just a little bit louder than it usually did, reminding her that this tournament won’t be about her. She won’t be going to compete, or to reconcile feelings or trauma and what kind of coach will she be if she leaves Vanessa to get into a competition headspace on her own, especially in one that will be at a higher level than she’s ever competed at before?

Brooke’s going for Vanessa. After every morning practice, every evening training session and lifestyle change that she’s put Vanessa through and the hours and hours that they’ve spent together, Brooke’s going to go. 

And from the way Vanessa’s beaming at her, she’s definitely made the right decision. 

“In the van guys, we’re gonna be late!” Kameron shouts the words as she throws the driver’s side door open, and it’s the cue that the group needs to pile in. 

A tug on Brooke’s arm as she’s squeezing her way through the aisle makes her let out a surprised yelp, and it’s no surprise that Vanessa’s the one behind it, from the way she’s grinning as Brooke falls into the seat beside her. 

“Field trip buddies? I got dibs on the window seat.” Vanessa tucks her bag onto the floor before pulling her legs up onto her seat and crossing her legs.

Brooke doesn’t mind the aisle, really, not when her limbs are lanky enough to need the extra space. “How is that position even comfortable on a long bus ride?”

“Some of us aren’t built like Gumby, that’s why. Kidding, kidding!” Vanessa holds up her hands, letting out a screech when Brooke reaches underneath to tickle her sides instead. “I’m being attacked!”

Brooke notices a hand tap Vanessa’s head, and turns around to see a very tired Monique in sunglasses obstructing the majority of her face. “Vanessa, I love you, but it’s not even seven yet and my caffeine isn’t due to kick in for another half hour, and there’s only so much my fragile person can take. Please, for me...shut that trap.”

“Absolutely. Scout’s honour.” Vanessa solemnly lifts her right hand to her forehead in a mock salute and Brooke can’t keep in the laugh that bubbles over, clapping her hand over her mouth when Vanessa breaks into giggles, too. 

“She’ll forgive me later. She loves me.” Vanessa whispers once Monique has settled back into her seat, and the conspiratorial look on her face makes it hard for Brooke not to crack up a second time. 

“You’re ridiculous.” Brooke turns her body to face Vanessa, resisting the urge to pull her legs up behind her on the seat. “We’ll have to keep quiet, though. Half of the bus is falling asleep.”

It’s true. The bus is mostly silent as they pull onto the freeway, save for the faint bickering emanating from the driver and passenger seats up front from Kameron and Asia. It makes sense, for the early hour - though Brooke’s body doesn’t feel like it can join them, not when she’s reminded of the fact that they’re headed to a competition, where Vanessa’s going to have actual matches and it’s not going to be training anymore-

“Boring. Wanna play _Heads Up_ instead?”

Vanessa’s question cuts through the way Brooke’s thoughts are starting to rev up and it’s a welcome distraction, especially when Vanessa’s expectant face is one that even she can’t resist. And it works, with the first hour of their drive flying by with ridiculous impressions and charades that make Brooke laugh until her sides hurt. When they play through the various categories enough times to know all of the answers, resting back against their seats doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. 

“It’s starting to get all light outside now.” Vanessa mumbles the words beside her as she sinks further into her seat, rubbing her eyes. “Just as I’m getting tired.”

“Good thing we still have at least an hour and a half to go. You have enough time for a nap, and you’ll need that energy later today. Sleep.” Brooke shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. She’s not sure that she’s going to be able to join Vanessa, but it’s not a bad idea.

Vanessa makes a face. “How am I supposed to fall asleep with the sun and all the talking and ruckus on the bus? At home I got one of those white noise machines. Ocean sounds and shit.” 

“Ocean sounds, really?” Brooke raises an eyebrow, pressing her lips together. “You somehow strike me as the last person to use one of those.”

“I like sleeping in comfort,” Vanessa sniffs, “and sometimes that means pretending that you’re on a beach.”

But Vanessa closes her eyes, pulls her sleeves over her hands nonetheless, and her breathing begins to even out as Brooke hits the second commercial on the podcast that she’s listening to. Vanessa’s head threatens to slip forward as she dozes, her neck pulling back at the last second as her breathing catches and nearly jerks her from her sleep. 

It doesn’t look comfortable, and the last thing that Vanessa needs to wake up with is a neck cramp. So it’s a smart coaching move, really, for Brooke to guide Vanessa’s head towards her shoulder to lean on, a soft surface that she can’t slip from. And the way that Vanessa burrows into her shoulder is natural, too, just second nature as she sleeps, Brooke knows that. But Brooke doesn’t want to move or disrupt Vanessa’s dozing, do anything to wake her because the way her eyelashes are fluttering is almost mesmerizing, as is the way Vanessa’s hands are folding in on their sleeves. 

A lock of hair falls in front of Vanessa’s face and Brooke doesn’t even have to think twice before brushing it back, tucking it behind her ear. She rakes her fingers through Vanessa’s hair, smoothing it down and the movement makes Vanessa mumble and snuggle herself more into Brooke’s side and it’s hard not to melt, it really is. Brooke keeps up the movements, forcing her fingers to comb through Vanessa’s hair as slowly as she can, her touch gentle and careful not to tug on the locks or rouse her. 

And maybe Brooke’s shoulder is little uncomfortable from their position, but she’s not about to move, not now, not when they’re sitting like this. Because part of Brooke wants to stay like this forever, as the rising sun casts beams of light around the bus and Vanessa’s warmth beside her makes her feel like she’s under a blanket, ready to fall asleep herself. 

“Psst. Psst. Wake up.”

“Huh?” Brooke rubs her eyes, trying to ignore the way everything is so bright and the sensation of something incessantly poking at her ribs.

Vanessa’s leg is jiggling as she bounces with entirely too much energy for a morning, and Brooke realizes it’s her hand that’s poking at her side. “We’re here!”

Brooke yawns, turning around to look and it’s true, because outside their window is the convention hall that’s supposed to still be three hours away, and the other girls around them are already picking up their belongings, climbing out of the van. 

Huh. So maybe Brooke had fallen asleep too. 

“C’mon, get out already! We’re gonna be the last ones off at this rate.” Vanessa looks like she’s about to explode out of her seat and Brooke snorts, standing up to grab her things so that she can put Vanessa out of her misery. 

The convention centre reminds Brooke of her early competition days, before she went pro and everything had been big and new and she still had so many ladders to climb, so many goals to strive for. She’d hoist her equipment bag over her shoulder, refusing to let her dad carry it for her and it feels strange now to not have one while surrounded by other athletes and coaches and spectators milling about in the lobby. A part of Brooke has missed this - the athletes getting themselves registered, the sponsor tables with gear on sale, the coaches trying to yell over the noise to get the attention of their athletes. It’s organized chaos, one that hadn’t necessarily been present when she’d gotten into the pro scene. This feels more organic, more novel, even from her lens as a washed up athlete who isn’t competing. 

The magic is somehow still there. 

“Damn. This is huge.” Vanessa whistles beside her, craning her neck to look around the lobby. “We haven’t been to a tournament this big before.”

“First time for everything. Keep on climbing, right?” Brooke nudges her side, but Vanessa doesn’t return her smile, instead biting her lip. 

“And you’re telling me I’m gonna compete at the highest level? Who knows what kinda Olympic level bitches are gonna be here. Jesus.” Vanessa’s fingers tap against her side, the nerves radiating off of her and Brooke grabs her shoulders, turns to face her.

“They’re here, but so are you. Tell me, would you be allowed to sign up and compete at this level if you weren’t qualified for it?”

“No, but-”

“Would I even let you fight if I didn’t think you were at this level, or above it?”

“Now you’re just trying to make me feel less nervous.” Vanessa sighs, and the vulnerability is a rare sight, one that makes Brooke’s heart clench.

“Doesn’t make it less true. You’ve been pushing yourself for months. You’ve competed in many novice tournaments. And guess what? You’re here now. You’ve earned it.”

The words are sincere coming from Brooke’s mouth because she believes them, really believes them. She’s challenged Vanessa and made her work harder and harder and Vanessa’s not only a better athlete now, but a stronger one too. One who has technique but also has the drive to push forward that extra mile. 

“You’re here because you deserve to be here, and you’re competing at a high level because it’s _your_ level. You’re not a beginner anymore, Ness.” Brooke nudges Vanessa’s side, and the way Vanessa’s shoulders are beginning to relax let Brooke know that the words are beginning to sink in. 

“No longer the girl popping into the gym in full face and asking you what the place is like, huh?” Vanessa grins, and Brooke can’t help but do so too at the memory. 

“And a full set of nails too, don’t forget that.”

“They were _press ons_ , bitch! I still wear ‘em now sometimes!” Vanessa sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms and Brooke doesn’t hesitate in returning the facial expression. 

“Next in line, please!” 

Though it isn’t until Vanessa traipses off to get ready with the other athletes that the reality of the situation really begins to sink in for Brooke. It’s a competition. A more prestigious competition, with Vanessa competing at a higher level than she’s ever done before. And sure, Vanessa’s trained more, worked her ass off and she’s a better fighter now than she’s ever been, but…

What if something does happen?

Brooke’s brain is used to falling down this cycle of thoughts, agonizing about possibilities and things that could happen even if they’re not in her control, but there’s a voice in her head - albeit a small one - that disrupts the routine. Knocks the cycle onto its side a little. 

Sure, this situation is not in Brooke’s control. But it also means she’s done everything she can for the things that _are._

Vanessa’s as ready as she’ll ever be. She’s competing at this level because it’s _her_ level. Brooke’s coached her to the best of her ability and now?

All Brooke can do is wait and see what happens.

Sure, she’ll bite her nails due to stress in the meantime, but she’ll survive.

Her and Vanessa both will.

* * *

“Okay, so if we were pros and the like-”

“Girl, you ain’t never been a pro-”

“Shut up, let me finish. If we were pro boxers,” Monet crosses her legs on the bench, looking between all of them, “what would you want your names to be?”

“Wouldn’t we just use our real names?” Monique’s expression is skeptical, and Monet rolls her eyes. 

“No, bitch, you’d need a cool stage name. A fighting name.” 

“What would you call yourself?” Vanessa leans forward, tying her shoes, and Monet pauses as she thinks.

“I’d want something cool like ‘The Hurricane’ or ‘The Assassin,’ y’know? Something that would sound hella dramatic when announced on a microphone.” 

Asia rolls her eyes. “Out here calling yourself assassin when you cried last week because there was a beetle in the locker room. Unbelievable.”

Monet scoffs. “Fine then, what would you call yourself?”

“Something like ‘K.O.’ or something because I’d be K.O.ing everyone.” Asia presses her fist into her palm, and Vanessa has to admit, it’s kinda catchy. 

Monet rolls her eyes. “You’ve never even K.O’d anyone yet. Poser.”

“Well, that’s why it’s a future name!” Asia huffs, and Vanessa has to hold in a snort.

“What about you, V?” Monet asks, and Vanessa leans back on her palms as she thinks.

“I dunno,” Vanessa shrugs, “never really thought about it before. Maybe something unique? Like connected to an actual nickname.”

“You want to be called Vanjie as your boxing name? But then that’s just your nickname.” Monique doesn’t look convinced.

Vanessa thinks. “Maybe if I just make it sound fancy. Add a ‘miss’ in front of it.”

“Miss Vanjie?” Asia lets out a giggle as she says it, and Vanessa can feel her face redden.

“What! It’s kinda cute.”

“Miss Vaaaaaanjie.” Monet drawls out, and even Vanessa can’t hold in a giggle when she does so. “I kinda like it.”

“Me too. At least you’ll know no one else will ever have your nickname.” Monique points out as she stands up, picking up her equipment. “Miss Vaaaanjie.”

“Are you guys just going to keep saying it for the rest of the day?” Vanessa snorts, but she can’t deny that it’s catchy. The name is definitely beginning to grow on her.

“Maybe so, Miss Vanjie, maybe so,” Asia grins, “and I’m so changing your contact name in my phone to that.”

“Unbelievable.”

Kameron and Brooke are waiting for them outside of the change room as they walk out, and Kameron motions for them to huddle against the wall, out of the way of the doors. She turns the clipboard in her hands to face them, pointing at a scrawled out list that Vanessa has to squint to be able to read.

“Y’all are all in different divisions, which doesn’t make it easier, that’s for sure. But I think I’ll be able to run between your matches in between rounds. I feel like a dance mom with too many kids to support, Jesus.” Kameron taps her clipboard with her pen. “Monique, you have a match in ring four, then Asia’s up in ring two, then…”

It’s hard for Vanessa to focus on what Kameron’s saying, her voice turning to static in Vanessa’s brain because her limbs are itching to move and get started. She hates this part of competitions, the calm before the storm that doesn’t seem to go by any faster no matter how much she tries and wills the clock to do so. Her eyes jump between the athletes behind them, the pink scrunchie in Monique’s hair, the service dog in the hallway that’s sleeping beside its owner, the set of double doors leading to the rings that athletes are already beginning to file into. But then Kameron’s yelling for all of them to pile their hands on top of one another and to shout _‘Hytes’ Boxing on three!’_ and Vanessa joins in just a second too late, and they’re starting to walk in towards the boxing rings, too.

“You okay with me being the one with you? Like Kameron said just now?” Brooke materializes beside Vanessa, nearly making her jump. “She’s got too many athletes to follow around.”

Not that Vanessa’s heard what Kameron had said but Brooke doesn’t need to know that, so she nods anyway, the idea making her heart flip in her chest. “Uh huh. Ain’t you my main coach anyway, by now? I train more with you than I do with Kameron.”

“True. Just wanted to check, since this is my first time coming to a tournament of yours.” Brooke’s eyes are twinkling as Vanessa feels a hand grab hers and squeeze it. “I know you’re more used to her.”

“I’d rather have you.” The words flow easily because it’s true, when Vanessa thinks about it.

Brooke has the ability to read her body language and know what’s going on in her head when she’s boxing to push her more, making her even better. She knows how to calm her down, how to make her laugh when she’s too wound up. It works in the gym, and here in a competition? 

Vanessa really needs it. 

“I’m glad.” Brooke’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, just for a second, before she uncrumples a sheet of her own. “So, first there’s a knockout round in your division which will be the quarters, then semis. You pass through those, you can make it to the finals. That’s going to be three matches in one day, if you win them.”

“Damn.” Vanessa gulps, because the hall that’s filled with rings in a grid formation suddenly looks bigger than it did five minutes ago, the athletes just a little bit more intimidating. “That’s a whole lotta fighting in one day.”

“Nothing you haven’t done in the gym with me. Why do you think I push you so hard?” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s bag from her, hoisting it over her shoulder.

“Let's hope it’s enough preparation, sensei.” Vanessa giggles at Brooke’s furrowed eyebrows at the nickname. “Teacher? Ninja master?”

“Really now?”

“How about papa?”

“Carry your own bag.” Brooke snorts, heaving it back towards Vanessa who catches it with a snicker.

“I think the last one really suits you.” 

“I think you need to get ready for your first match, that’s what. We’re almost at the ring.” 

“Roger that, sensei. Now or never, huh?” Vanessa nudges Brooke’s shoulder before setting her bag down, and the butterflies in her chest begin to flutter and take flight, because she can already see the girl on the other side of the ring pulling on a helmet of her own and shit, she’s really doing this.

With Brooke here this time. Doesn’t exactly help with the adrenaline. 

“Call me sensei again and I’m gonna cheer on your opponent.” Brooke taps Vanessa’s nose, a smile on her face, and Vanessa knows she isn’t serious. “Five minutes to warm up. You’ve got this.”

“I better.” Vanessa rolls out her neck, starts to bounce on her toes to get the blood flowing in her body. 

“Remember. First and second rounds to dissect her fighting style and her tells. Third and fourth rounds to take advantage of that knowledge and stay one step ahead of her.” Brooke peeks over her shoulder at Vanessa’s opponent, and Vanessa follows her gaze, the girl’s bright yellow shorts making her wrinkle her nose. “You figure out how she fights, you can beat her at her own game.”

It’s what they’ve done in the gym - Brooke sparring her while favouring a certain side over the other, a specific combination, waiting for Vanessa to catch on and be ready to counter her. Vanessa has to force her brain to step back and see the overall picture of the fight while her blood is pumping and her limbs feel like they’re moving faster than her mind but it’s good practice, because now she doesn’t just throw moves that come to her on instinct. She’s learned to plan.

Maybe, it’s going to be enough. Maybe, the morning and evening and weekend practices, and the conditioning, the sparring, the discussions about techniques will now all be worth it. Even though Vanessa’s fighting in the highest division she’s ever fought in before, even if she’s now a small fish in a big pond? Maybe all of the preparation means she won’t be gasping for air while treading water. 

And if it’s not enough? She’s got Brooke swimming beside her, too.


	9. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa’s watching her opponent’s arms like a hawk, coiled in front of their face ready to shoot forward at any moment. She’s looking for an opening, a chance where her opponent falters for just a second, where there’s a chance for her to land a clean hit, in and out, ending up with the points that she needs to win. 
> 
> It’s strategy. It’s a game. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the love on this fic so far, I really appreciate it! Every single review makes me so happy to know that you guys are reading it and enjoying it and have something to say about it. It's the best thing to come back to as a writer. After a month, here's chapter nine! Hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think. Writ as usual is the best beta <3

Silky had asked Vanessa once about what goes through her mind when she’s in a match. What she’s thinking. And truth be told, even when Vanessa’s in it, it’s hard for her to really decipher everything. 

When Vanessa’s in a fight, the world seems to slow down around her. She’s aware of every blink of her opponent’s eyes, every bead of sweat that is dripping from their temples to their eyebrows onto their cheeks. Vanessa’s watching her opponent’s arms like a hawk, coiled in front of their face ready to shoot forward at any moment. She’s looking for an opening, a chance where her opponent falters for just a second, where there’s a chance for her to land a clean hit, in and out, ending up with the points that she needs to win. 

It’s strategy. It’s a game. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

This first fight feels pretty standard, so far shaping up to be what she’s prepared for. Vanessa’s unravelling the opponent’s tells with each minute that passes, and now, by the third round? She knows that the girl’s first instinct is to feint and jab high before actually going for a lower blow, and that she’s likely to block hits with her right. It’s all too easy for Vanessa, really, to land hit after hit by striking one step ahead while the girl is feinting a high punch, leaving her midsection wide open. Vanessa switches up her stance every time the girl’s shoulders relax for a second, because she can hear Brooke’s voice in her head lecturing her about the importance of being as comfortable attacking with her left side as much as her right and more dominant side. 

It’s a puzzle that never fails to make Vanessa’s blood pump faster - her eyes narrow just a little bit more with every combo she can successfully throw at this girl, every hit that she blocks and counters with attacks of her own because she’s able to predict when the girl is going to strike. Each trill of the whistle that signifies the end of a round is a jolt in her ears, barely calming the electric current that buzzes along her limbs, keeping her on her toes even when she’s pulled to the side of the ring by Brooke in between rounds.

“Keep it up for this last round and you’ll be in the clear.” The approving tone in Brooke’s voice makes Vanessa stand up just a little bit taller as she tries to catch her breath, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. “She looks like she’s getting a bit worn out, too. It’ll be easier to land hits the more off kilter she is.”

Brooke tilts her head slightly towards the other side of the ring where Vanessa’s opponent and her coach are huddled, and it’s hard to miss the slight pout and downturned lips on the girl’s face, perfectly complimenting the furrow of her eyebrows. Her shoulders slump almost comically, and the way that she huffs and crosses her arms is reminiscent of the child beauty queens on _Toddlers and Tiaras._

“You’ve got this last round,” Brooke reaches out, squeezing Vanessa’s shoulder as she winks when the referee blows his whistle, “so finish this match and let’s get ready for the next one.”

It doesn’t feel like a victory when the round ends and the referee hoists Vanessa’s fist into the air, declaring her win without a single word. The approving nods of the judges around the ring don’t mean much, not yet, not when winning this match is just a stepping stone onto the next one, where she’s going to have to face someone new and start the process of unravelling their tells all over again like she’s just finished doing with her first opponent.

The screen at the far end of the hall tells Vanessa that it’s only ten thirty. The tournament has only just started, and one successful match isn’t something to celebrate just yet, not when she has more to go. Still, it doesn’t stop her from squealing when she sees Monique leaving a fight of her own, the shit eating grin on her face telling Vanessa that she’s just won her first match, too. 

“Bad bitches! Two bad bitches. Tell me, how does it feel to kick ass on this fine morning?” Monique spins in place and her excitement is contagious, any tiredness from Vanessa’s first match evaporating on the spot.

“It feels fucking fantastic, is how it feels. We just need _Eye of the Tiger_ playing for the full dramatic effect.” Vanessa snickers.

“That’s old school. Play _WAP_ and then we’ll be talking.” Monet slides up behind them, and Vanessa can’t help but double take at the sweats and sliders she’s in. 

Monet catches the look and shrugs. “Bombed my first match. Got my ass whooped. But it’s whatever, I’m just gonna be here in the comfort of my sweats while watching y’all. My day’s gonna be easy.”

Vanessa reaches out to pat her shoulder, but Monet shakes her head. “Honestly? Pressure’s off for me now. I get to watch the rest of y’all stress.”

“Y’know, she’s got a point.” Monique raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa can’t help but let out a snort.

“You’re gonna keep fighting. No giving in because you wanna sit in the stands with Monet in your sweats.”

“You’re no fun.”

Monet pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna grab some food ‘cause I’m ‘bout to pass out. Anyone want anything?”

“I’m coming, my next match isn’t for another hour,” Monique grins, “so plenty of time to digest.”

Vanessa, though, shakes her head, because the thought of food feels almost foreign right now, not when she’s still so worked up and with her next match being so soon. “I’ll hold off. Maybe later.”

She waves her friends off and cranes her neck to look around the hall. Brooke had excused herself to the bathroom at least fifteen minutes ago, and the fact that she’s not back yet makes Vanessa wonder if she’s been held up. Is there really that long of a line for the bathroom at a boxing tournament?

Except there’s no line when Vanessa finds the bathroom, and Brooke’s not inside the enclosed area when Vanessa peeks in, fixing her flyaways in the mirror. When Vanessa pushes the door open though, stepping back out into the hall, she sees why she really didn’t have to go into the bathroom in the first place.

Brooke’s surrounded by what looks like a small army of athletes, tucking their hair behind their ears and batting their eyelashes and Vanessa doesn’t know what’s funnier - the way they’re all clamouring to get a word in or the way Brooke looks like she’s smelled something terrible.

“I can’t believe _Brooke Lynn Hytes_ is here-”

“Are you ever gonna make a comeback?”

“You were like, my favourite boxer when I was a kid-”

The chattering blurs together when Vanessa peeks at Brooke’s expression, the polite smile on her face not quite hiding the way her brows are climbing higher and higher on her forehead. She’s at a bit of a loss of what to do - maybe Brooke doesn’t mind the commotion and doesn’t necessarily want to be rescued, but on the other hand her foot is tapping a beat on the floor that’s getting faster and faster. She’s getting twitchy. 

Vanessa’s about to take a hesitant step forward when Brooke turns in her direction, and the relief in her eyes is palpable as they widen upon seeing her. 

_“What should I do?”_ Vanessa mouths, trying not to draw the crowd’s attention towards her, as a girl shoves a flyer and sharpie in front of Brooke’s face for her to autograph.

Brooke shrugs, taking a step back when another girl tries to take a selfie with her, blinking at the brightness of the flash. _“Improvise!”_

Well, there’s no time like the present for Vanessa to foray into an acting career.

“Oof. Ow.” Vanessa cradles her wrist in her other hand, trying her best to convey a wincing expression on her face. She’s about to limp, before realizing she’s pretending that her arm is hurt, not her leg.

There’s a reason Vanessa got the part of a tree branch in her third grade class play. It had required her to do absolutely nothing to sell the part. 

Lucky for her, Brooke’s more than willing to step up to bat. “Vanessa! Are you hurt? Shit, excuse me, pardon me, just have to check on my athlete, coming through-” 

Brooke pushes her way through the athletes until she reaches her, and Vanessa pretends to wince again for good measure. “Oh no, we better get this checked out before your next match, can’t have it giving out on you, can we?” Brooke spins to face the athletes, an expression of fake sadness on her face that Vanessa has to admit is pretty convincing. “So sorry to leave, it’s been wonderful to meet you all! But the sport always comes first, you know how it is. I’ll see you all around!”

Vanessa grabs onto Brooke with her other hand and practically sprints, ducking past the other coaches and spectators and athletes and pulling Brooke into the first empty hallway that pops up. Brooke nearly skids past her, recovering fast enough to find her footing before leaning against the opposite wall. 

“Holy shit.” Vanessa gasps out, her giggles interspersed with the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. “Did you just-”

“Carry that fake injury plot on my back? Yes I did.” Brooke grins as she bends over, her hands resting against her knees as she tries to regulate her own breathing. 

Vanessa sticks out her tongue. “Now that’s no way to treat someone saving you from a wild pack of fangirls, is it? Seriously though, I didn’t expect that.”

“Shit, honestly, me neither. It’s not that something like that hasn’t happened before, it’s just...it’s been awhile since it has.” Brooke lets out a breath. “I was used to it back in the day, competing all the time. But it’s been awhile since I’ve been in a place like this, where people actually know who pro boxers are.”

“You telling me you used to be smooth and suave while handling crowds?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow, trying to picture the sight of Brooke however many years ago.

“Don’t act like it’s that hard to believe. I totally was. I just gotta get that mojo back if I’m gonna come to competitions with you and have to say hello to people. Either that, or wear a disguise. Dress incognito.”

Vanessa snickers. “Ah, the life of a niche famous person is so hard. All the adoring fans. How are you ever going to survive it?”

“Shut up.” Brooke shoves Vanessa’s shoulder, but she’s laughing too, shaking her head as she does. “Seriously though, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Princess Diana. Or Taylor Swift. Which paparazzi-favourite celebrity do you prefer?”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “The better question is, let’s see which one of us has her next fight in hmm, let me check my watch, fifteen minutes. Don’t make me make your warm up exercises a bitch.”

“Whatever you say, Lady Gaga. Hey, you could sing her song _Paparazzi_ with all this media attention you’re getting, couldn’t you?” Vanessa flashes Brooke a grin before turning on her heels, practically sprinting back to the competition area before Brooke can retaliate in any way. 

If nothing else, at least Vanessa’s keeping her humble. Never too good to have a big head.

The second match of the day is almost easier than the first - the girl falls for her feints almost too easily, giving Vanessa the chance to land clean hit after hit, and she’s barely breaking a sweat when the referee blows the whistle to end the final round. The referee lifts her fist up and maybe it’s the cheering of everyone around the ring watching them, maybe it’s the way he yells out her name as the winner, but Vanessa’s heart is still pumping at the speed of light, the rushing of blood loud in her ears and she feels like a fucking rockstar.

The best part, though? Brooke. At the edge of the ring, she has a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face that Vanessa can feel in her soul. Brooke cheers along with everyone else but there’s something about having her approval that feels different. Right. It’s enough to make every morning practice, every rep and extra minute of sparring worth it, just for the clap on the back that Brooke gives her as she helps her over the ropes of the ring and onto the ground.

“Fucking killed that.” Vanessa doesn’t mean to sound cocky but it’s hard not to when she feels like a million dollars, having obliterated both of the opponents that she’s faced so far. 

She’s just left the ring but she wants more, because her muscles feel as if they’re laced with electricity that can keep her going for two, three, four more matches. The sensation is addicting and Vanessa almost feels drunk on it, the desire to win again almost an itch that she can’t scratch. 

“Not gonna lie, you really did.” The pride in Brooke’s eyes is hard to miss but there’s a hesitancy too, one that’s hard to miss with the purse of her lips.

So Vanessa shoots her a questioning look. “What? Did I not do as well as I thought?”

“Just...be careful. Don’t get overconfident too early, especially when you have another match still left in the day. Letting your guard down means your next opponent is going to have an easy in.” 

Vanessa wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It ain’t over ‘till it’s over. I’m still allowed to be pumped, though.” 

“Didn’t say you aren’t,” Brooke tugs on one of Vanessa’s braids lightly, “but remember that you’re not done yet. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience.”

“You’ve let your guard down too early?” 

“Every time I thought I had a match in the bag because I did fine on earlier ones, I didn’t. And I always paid for it majorly.” Brooke’s pointed look makes Vanessa want to scowl, because she’s not that cocky. She’ll be ready for the next one.

Just like she’d been for her first two matches of the day. 

Vanessa makes her way towards the plastic chairs that Kameron and a handful of athletes from the gym have taken over, plopping herself down beside Asia with a grin. 

“Made it through to the finals in my division.” Vanessa holds up a hand and Asia returns the high five immediately, though she’s biting her lip, her eyes looking a little wild.

“Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow and Asia shushes her almost comically, slinking down in her chair. 

“Can you not be so loud?”

“What, bitch?”

Asia pulls her hood up over her head, mumbling something under her breath that Vanessa can’t hear. Vanessa scoots herself closer until her and Asia are close enough to bonk their foreheads together. 

“Speak up.”

“KameronandIkissed.”

“ _What?”_

“Shh!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Vanessa mumbles under her breath, trying to resist the urge to rub her temples, “how? When? Where? Did you swap spit out here on the chairs? The fuck?”

“What? No!” Asia whispers, making frantic shushing gestures with her index finger. “She was giving me a pep talk before my second match. In the hallway. Which happened to be empty.”

“And decided it would be best to end with a makeout session?” Vanessa feels like she’s about to explode because holy _shit_. Asia’s crush on Kameron isn’t exactly a secret and quite frankly, it’s always looked reciprocated.

But a first kiss before a _match_? Damn. 

“It wasn’t a makeout session! Who do you take me for?” Asia sputters but Vanessa raises an eyebrow, and snickers when Asia seems to deflate. “Okay, maybe it was a bit. But I won the match and now it feels like I can’t even look her in the eye because the last thing we did before the match was kiss.”

“So what? Go kiss her again, dumbass. It’s not rocket science.” Vanessa feels like Dr. Phil, with her friends’ love lives. First Monique and Monet not figuring themselves out and now Asia in a tizzy over Kameron.

But Asia’s crossing her arms. “She’s a coach! I can’t just go and kiss a coach.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you technically already kissed a coach.” Vanessa snickers, trying her best to hold back the urge to wiggle her brows. 

“Shut up.” Asia grumbles. “I can’t believe I can never talk to her again.”

“Never again-what do you mean, never again?” Vanessa nearly falls off of her chair as she leans forward, poking Asia’s shoulder. “Go talk to her and also make out with her. In fact, Kameron’s looking over right this second.”

The subtle looks that Kameron is throwing in Asia’s direction are hard to miss when Vanessa knows what to watch for, and she just wants to let out a little yell under her breath. Because _something’s_ happening. Vanessa doesn’t know what, exactly, but if anything, she loves watching the show. 

“What? She is? Shit, I gotta hide. She won’t see me if I slide off the chair and crouch, will she?” Asia’s beginning to slide to the front of her chair and Vanessa snorts, reaching out a hand to grab the back of her hoodie. 

“You’re not exactly invisible, and it’s going to look way more suspicious if you do that.” Vanessa tugs on Asia’s hoodie, revealing her face again. “What’s the harm in talking to her?”

“Because then we have to _talk._ ” Asia groans, dropping her face in her hands. 

Vanessa reaches out to pat her shoulder. “I know you’d rather kiss her and all that, but you’ll have to talk eventually, y’know. You’re sitting in shotgun and navigating for the ride home.”

Asia lifts up her face to scowl. “First, I wouldn’t rather kiss her. Okay, maybe I would, but still. Second, I’ll just get Monet or Monique to navigate. I’ll hide in the back or something.”

“No you won’t. You’re going to talk to Kameron on the drive home about the kiss. And then go kiss her again.”

It’s foolproof, really. Straight out of a romantic comedy. Should be easy enough to execute. 

“I’m never coming to you for advice again.” 

Or not. 

“You’ll thank me later when the two of you are together.” Vanessa grins, an expression that grows when Asia groans. 

Vanessa has to tell Monet and Monique about this, because they’ll have to figure out a way to get Asia into that front seat. If any one of them is going to end up with a boo, it may as well be Asia. Despite her spooked horse tendencies. 

Vanessa’s gotta ask Brooke about it. Maybe Kameron’s telling her about it too, from the way the two of them are deep in conversation only a few rows over. Not that Vanessa gets the chance to do so, because when Brooke’s getting up out of her seat and handing her a protein bar, they’re on their way to the last match. 

It’s not too worrisome. Vanessa will be fine, just like how she had been for her first two matches. She takes a swig of her Gatorade in their corner of the ring as Brooke wraps up her other hand, feeling the energy growing in her limbs the closer and closer the clock overhead ticks to the start of the match. The crowd is bigger than those from her first two matches, seven to eight rows deep around all sides of the ring and it makes the excitement bubble higher and higher in Vanessa’s stomach. Reaching the finale in her weight class is one thing. But winning this match and thus winning her weight class?

It’ll be even better.

“Feeling alright?” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s other hand once the first one is wrapped, her touch delicate as she covers Vanessa’s knuckles for the third time that day. 

Vanessa would be lying if she said that she doesn’t feel her heart beat just a little bit faster every time Brooke does up her wraps for her, but she can’t think about it now. Not during a tournament. Not when the first round of her last match is coming up in a few minutes and she gets to kick ass all over again. 

So she shrugs. “Feeling just fine.”

“Good. So stay alert, look for her tells, and take her down using her own game.”

The girl across the ring is intimidating, Vanessa will give her that, with a sleeve of tattoos on one arm extending all the way to her fingers. She doesn’t look too afraid herself, fastening her gloves with her teeth while her coach gives her a pep talk of her own. The girl’s coach towers over her, but then again, it doesn’t mean much when Vanessa isn’t blessed in the height department either. 

But Vanessa can beat her. Just like she’s beaten her other two opponents today. 

The girl shoots her a grin as the referee beckons the two of them closer, the gold mouth guard she’s flashing almost akin to a grill. Vanessa’s hands are up and protecting her face and abdomen before the whistle blows, because she’s ready, and-

Damn.

The girl is fast, with a jab and a cross and an uppercut as soon as the round starts and Vanessa blocks them just in time, letting out a breath when the girl steps back. But she’s fine, it doesn’t matter if the girl is fast because Vanessa is too, and the combination that she throws at the girl with her hook is enough to land a clean hit against the chest. But then the girl is back and in Vanessa’s space and too close but she’s most definitely in the right spot to crowd her and land a bunch of hits that make Vanessa scowl as she retreats, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The pierce of the whistle is almost welcome, as Vanessa flops onto the stool in her corner of the ring. Brooke’s handing her a water bottle and patting her forehead with a towel and her raised eyebrows make Vanessa shrug.

“So not the best start to a round. I’ll get there.”

“Crowd her space first. She’s trying to catch you off guard, so you need to be in there before she’s ready. You can probably get a few in with jabs and a backhand before she’s realized what’s happening.” Brooke reaches out a hand for the water bottle once Vanessa’s finished, taking a swig herself.

Vanessa rolls out her neck, wiping the sweat off of her forehead with the back of the glove and it’s just as well because the whistle is blowing again, pulling them back for another round. 

Except that the girl figures Vanessa out too easily. She’s hitting back in the mere milliseconds that Vanessa’s guards are down, landing hits that will count in her favour and it’s frustrating, being a second behind. The girl takes advantage of every time that Vanessa pauses and takes a second to strategize, breaking through her train of thought every time with a hit that Vanessa _should_ be able to block and counter with a combination of her own. But it’s feeling impossible when Vanessa’s attempted hits turn into fumbles, when all she can do is try to block the girl as best as she can. 

“Fuck!” Vanessa’s scowling by the next break, dropping her head between her knees because this is _wrong,_ not how this match should be going. 

What the hell is she doing wrong?

“She’s getting in your head. Don’t let her do that.” Brooke’s crouching beside her, a hand on her knee and Vanessa wants to shake it off, because everything feels prickly, the energy previously flowing her limbs now acting like currents that are slowly setting her on fire.

Vanessa sits back up, leaning against the ropes of the ring. “How the fuck not? I can’t focus ‘cause she’s too fast and I’m crashing ‘cause it’s been a long fucking day, and I can’t do this.” 

Maybe it’ll be less embarrassing if Vanessa throws in the towel now. She’s clearly in over her head, and it’s too much and maybe if she leaves with her tail in between her legs she can preserve a small shred of dignity without getting her ass whooped even more in the process. 

“You’re not giving in that easily, are you?” Brooke’s raising an eyebrow and Vanessa wants to growl. “Thought you had more in you than that.”

“I do, I just...fuck.” She can’t go and give up when Brooke’s looking at her like _that_. Not that she would, anyway, but for a second, the option is tempting. 

Vanessa is just going to crumble into pieces during the course of the match instead. 

Brooke turns her chin towards her. “Listen. She’s not invincible. This is just me in the gym, pushing you just a little too hard when you’re tired. Nothing more. That’s all you’re facing right now.”

It’s easy enough for Brooke to say, Vanessa supposes, when the whistle blows again to signal the next round and her opponent is looking as fresh as ever, already bouncing on her feet. Vanessa feels like she’s stuck in molasses, her limbs sluggish as they fight against an invisible force and her brain just a second behind. She’s blindsided by hits that she’d be able to block easily in the gym, counter with a few of her own, but right now? 

She’s fighting worse than someone who’s never boxed before. 

Everything is too loud, too blinding around her as the third round ends and she slumps on her stool in the corner of the ring, dropping her head into her hands. The lights are too bright and there are too many people watching the match and all Vanessa wants to have is the ability to disappear into her brain and hide away and turn everything around her off. 

There’s a hand on Vanessa’s knee, and when she opens her eyes Brooke is looking at her with a sympathetic expression and she hates it. She doesn’t want to have to see it, because it means that Brooke also knows that she’s in deep shit in this round, that there’s no way to come back from it. Instead, both of them get to watch this slow descent towards a loss that almost feels worse than if Vanessa was hit with a knockout. She gets to see the foundations of her boxing skills break down one by one, all because now she’s faced with a little bit of pressure that she can’t face up against. 

She knows that Kameron, Asia, Monet, and Monique are in the crowd, along with the rest of the athletes from their gym. There’s other competitors that Vanessa hasn’t met yet, more coaches and spectators here just for the entertainment of it all. There’s even television cameras because the tournament is being broadcast on some offshoot sports channel on cable and god, the fact that people Vanessa doesn’t even know are seeing her in this state?

She hates it. 

The referee’s whistle is piercing, cutting through her thoughts and bringing her back to the stool she’s on, the cheering of the crowd, and most importantly, her opponent who’s already bouncing on her feet and ready to go. 

She still has one more round to go. 

Fucking hell.


	10. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a great thing. Hey, can I be your momager? Kris Jenner style? Build a Mateo empire and all that?” Alexis’ face lights up, and Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her sister never changes.
> 
> “You’re not even my mom. Besides, if you were a Kardashian, you’d be Khloe at best.”
> 
> Alexis pouts. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's been another month...oops. Sorry everyone! Real life is busy busy, but I've had time here and there to work on this fic so while it's slow going, it's still trucking along. Thank you guys so much for all the love you've given this fic so far, I appreciate it so much. Let me know what you think of this chapter as well! As usual, writ is amazing for betaing <3

_Beep beep beep-_

“Fuck.” Vanessa grumbles underneath her breath as she hits snooze on her alarm clock for the fifth time in a row, but looking at the 7:15 that flashes on the display, she can’t ignore her wake up time for much longer.

She’s back at work today, a shoot up in midtown. First day back after the tournament. 

Not that Vanessa wants to think about it. 

The evening after her last match had been a blur, the events mixing together and forming a grey cloud hovering above her brain. Maybe it’s good, though, because the last thing Vanessa wants to do is relive the way her opponent broke down the structures of her boxing skills as if doing so brick by brick. Now, she feels no better than a beginner walking into their very first class. Hell, maybe Vanessa never had been. 

Brooke must be so disappointed with her, now that yesterday’s events have had a chance to settle and allow for some reflection on their surfaces. She hadn’t wanted to show it much last night, being more concerned around whether Vanessa was okay. But now, the fact that her coaching skills are being wasted on Vanessa is probably sinking in, considering Vanessa wasn’t able to stand up to a little bit of a challenge in the ring. 

The fact that Vanessa has the day off from training today feels like a blessing. She can push away the events of yesterday and hide them behind a wall in her brain, one strong enough to conceal all the humiliation and disappointment running through her veins, the types that feel like they will never clear out of her system again. She doesn’t have to peek behind the wall until tomorrow, until she’s back in the gym for another morning practice to relive how terribly she’d burned under pressure. 

Vanessa reaches out towards her bedside table, fumbling around until she snags her phone by the popsocket in between her fingers just as it’s about to drop. The battery that flashes on the screen is low, nineteen percent, something that makes her frown. She’d definitely plugged it in last night when she’d gotten home, in between sulking on the couch and watching reruns of _Malcolm in the Middle_ to try and wipe her brain. By the time she’d climbed under her covers and unplugged her phone, it had been fully charged. 

The dropping battery, now at seventeen percent, is a far cry from being the most alarming thing on her screen. Not with notifications upon notifications on her lock screen from both Twitter and Instagram and, wait - one that says that _Bad Bunny_ of all people has just followed her? 

What?

Maybe Vanessa’s still in dreamland, one where she’s become a famous boxer or a rapper with connections in high places. Maybe her alarm clock is about to go off one more time to properly wake her up, because nothing about her screen makes any sense at all.

But then Vanessa’s phone starts to buzz and it’s Monet who’s trying to Facetime her, and she swipes and is about to grumble how it’s early in the morning, damnit-

_“Finally! The legend herself is awake!”_

“What are you on about?” Vanessa holds back a yawn as she pushes the blankets away from her legs, swings them over the side of her bed. 

_“You’re a meme, bitch!”_

“Huh?” Vanessa’s brows push together as she heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth, phone held in one hand. “Was that Monique’s voice?”

_“Not relevant.”_ Monet waves her hand, when a figure in the background shoots a smile to the camera. _“What’s more relevant is the fact that your dumbass has gone viral. You’re trending on Twitter.”_

“I’m what now? What the hell would I go viral for? I don’t do anything.” Vanessa mumbles, the toothbrush still in her mouth. “Except lose matches.”

_“That’s sort of what you’re viral for.”_ Monique pops into the frame, a gleeful smile on her face. _“Well, more like your little performance after you lost.”_

Wait, what?

“What do you mean, performance? I don’t remember doing anything.” 

Vanessa tries to ignore the way her heart is beating faster and faster as she spits out her toothpaste, trying to rack what’s left in her brain after actively pushing down the events of last night, because shit, did she do something stupid like have a tantrum? Throw a fit? She can’t even remember after trying to forget it all and the night feels like a blur to her, and fuck, if she’s gone and done something stupid...shit.

She’s real screwed now. 

_“Wait. You don’t remember?”_ Monet’s mouth drops open almost in sync with Monique’s and Jesus Christ, this would be funny if Vanessa wasn’t currently filled with a sense of impending doom. _“You serious?”_

“What did I _do_?” Maybe Vanessa’s voice gets a little bit squeaky but it’s a miracle that it even comes out at all, from the way that she’s about to implode on the inside. 

Monet fiddles with her screen on the other end as a link pops up in Vanessa’s notifications. _“Better you watch it yourself.”_

Jesus Christ. 

The link takes Vanessa to Twitter and fuck, it’s a video of her and her opponent after the match has ended, one that’s surprisingly good quality - probably all the professional cameras that were filming the final matches for some obscure sports network. On screen, Vanessa’s drenched in sweat and looking a little woozy but somehow her braids are still intact, and it’s nice to see that at least her opponent is looking equally as knackered. Though the referee raises the hand of her opponent to indicate the win and watching the events back, it does sting a little bit. They’re still in the ring as the tournament’s master of ceremonies makes his way over, a bedazzled microphone in his hand that sparkles under the bright overhead lights. 

_“That was quite the match, ladies! I gotta hand it to both of you because that was entertaining boxing. Let's talk to you first, Vanessa, after that loss. What’s going through your head?”_

Vanessa watches as her on screen self leans in towards the mic, a little bit unsteady on her feet. _“Coulda done better. On that note...Miss Vanjie out.”_

On screen, she sways a little bit, her eyes rolling back and-

Wait. She’d gone and _fainted_ yesterday during the interview?

The camera pans to the floor for a second before focusing on the interviewer again, who looks only slightly alarmed as a medical crew surrounds Vanessa. _“Well. That’s one way to make a statement.”_

“What the hell?” Vanessa mumbles to herself, because...that’s what she’s viral for? Fainting? 

What?

She goes back to the Facetime app where the call with Monique and Monet is still open, twin expectant expressions on their faces. “What’s so exciting about fainting? That’s embarrassing as hell.” 

Monique looks delighted by the question. _“You see, it’s memeable.”_

_“Very memeable.”_ Monet finishes, and Vanessa wants to bonk both of their heads together, really.

Text after text pops up from Monique on the top of the screen, all Twitter links and oh god, Vanessa’s almost afraid to see what they hold. 

But she has to know. 

She clicks the first, the caption making her pause. 

**_Interviewer: so why would we hire you?_ **

**_Me_** _:_

There’s a cropped version of the video right underneath, and Vanessa’s not sure why she presses play, really, to hear herself say ‘ _Miss Vanjie out’_ and faint again. 

Doesn’t get any less embarrassing than the first time she’d watched it. She clicks on another that Monique’s sent to her. 

**_My mom: are you gay?_ **

**_Me:_ **

Vanessa can’t help but giggle because, well, the video _does_ fit. She can’t deny that. She goes through the rest, and the way the captions get better and better is a little infuriating.

**_Me seeing a person from high school in public:_ **

**_Me when my mom asks if I took the chicken out of the freezer two hours ago like I was supposed to:_ **

**_When your professor calls on you in class as you’re about to enter REM sleep:_ **

Good lord. Vanessa really is a meme. 

She lets out a groan as she goes back to Facetime, Monique and Monet’s twin cackles an unfortunate soundtrack. “I’m really a meme. I’m a whole ass meme.”

Monet looks almost proud. _“Yeah you are. ‘Miss Vanjie’ is trending on Twitter.”_

“Okay, but what am I gonna do?” Vanessa almost doesn’t even notice the way that she starts pacing in front of her closet, in line with the way that her thoughts are beginning to race because _fuck,_ this is going to be embarrassing.

Hell, it’s already embarrassing. She’s a meme, in a viral video and she’s trending on _Twitter_ of all things for fainting at an opportune time and her mom’s probably seen it and her coworkers and the entire fucking world, for that matter. Jeez. 

What does Brooke even think about all of this?

_“You can’t faint your way out of this one, Vanj.”_ Monique snickers, growing into a full laugh when Vanessa groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Just a little too soon for that.”

Monet is oblivious to her internal turmoil, though, her face close to the camera on screen. _“You have like, a hundred thousand followers on Instagram now. Pretty damn cool if you ask me.”_

“I do? What?” Vanessa goes to the app, which opens for a split second before crashing. Damn. “Who the hell is following me?”

She tries to open it a second time and her notifications page refreshes every few seconds, with likes and comments pouring in on her recent posts. Most of them say _‘Miss Vanjie out_ ’, a fact that Vanessa does her very best to ignore. But hey, at least Monet is right. She _does_ have a shit ton of followers now. 

Woah. 

_“They want to follow the meme, the myth, the legend, that’s why. I bet you can get sponsorships and shit.”_ Monet’s looking excited, sharing a gleeful smile with Monique. _“Damn. I shoulda fainted on television.”_

“I didn’t faint on purpose.” Vanessa groans, flopping back onto her bed and trying to ignore the way her heart is pounding out of her chest. “It just sorta happened.” 

It did. Not that Vanessa can remember it in the least, because the evening still feels like a blur in her brain, one that she had tried to bury in the initial embarrassment of losing the match but now, she’s not sure if she can. 

It’s going to be a little bit harder to push the events of yesterday behind a wall when the whole world now knows about it. She’s going to need some _Men in Black_ style memory wiping to even think about living in blissful ignorance now.

_“Brooke said it was ‘cause you had low blood sugar. She was damn relieved it wasn’t from a concussion.”_

Shit. Vanessa didn’t even think of Brooke’s reaction to her fainting, after seeing her dad go through what he did all those years ago-

“I should call her.” Vanessa rushes out, biting her lip. “Talk to you later?”

Monique waves. _“See you, meme legend.”_

Vanessa rolls her eyes as she hangs up, trying to wipe her clammy hands on her pants before calling Brooke. She answers on the first ring, her eyebrows creased and a worried look on her face. 

_“Thank god you’re okay. You feel okay?”_

“I’m a meme.”

Brooke’s anxious expression melts away, her eyes beginning to crinkle as she holds back a laugh. _“That you are. How did you even manage that?”_

“I dunno! I forget most of it!” Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, because hell, that’s a question she wishes she had the answer to. “Did that actually happen?”

_“You bet it did. Next time, I’m giving you an extra protein bar before your third match of the day. Your energy was just drained.”_

“Speaking of the match…” Vanessa trails off, busying her eyes with her closet to pull out some clothes because what is she supposed to even say, really? “I’m sorry.”

_“What are you apologizing for?”_ The confusion on Brooke’s face is genuine when Vanessa looks back at the screen, her eyebrows creasing together and it’s almost worse, really, to have to actually explain. Pick it apart. 

“For losing. For not really taking in the coaching that you were trying to give me between rounds. For being overconfident during the match, I don’t know.” Vanessa lets out a breath. “I just…I feel like I let you down.” 

The words really begin to settle in as they leave Vanessa’s lips, crystalizing in the air. This tournament had been the first one of hers that Brooke came to, and she just had to go and lose the last match in a blisteringly pathetic way. Does Brooke regret coaching her? Having her name attached to someone like Vanessa?

Vanessa lets out a breath as the thoughts build upon one another, filling up more and more space in her abdomen, but Brooke shakes her head. _“You think I’m disappointed because you lost a match? Unless you’re the Hulk and have something to tell me, it’s impossible to win every single fight that you enter. You’re not invincible, and guess what? Boxing is hard. Really hard. Even making it to the finals on your first try is something that you should be proud of.”_

“Yeah?” Vanessa doesn’t mean for her voice to come out so shaky, she really doesn’t.

Brooke for her part smiles, though it doesn’t do much to calm the beating of Vanessa’s heart in her chest. _“I, for one, am proud of you. Not only for the matches that you won, but for that last one. Even when it was tough, you kept pushing until the very end. You gave it everything you had.”_

Vanessa makes a face. “Quite literally.” 

_“Had a feeling you were going to make a splash somehow. Didn’t think it would be by becoming a meme.”_ Brooke keeps a straight face for approximately three seconds before bursting into laughter, and Vanessa groans, flopping back onto her bed. 

She’s never, ever, going to live this down. Ever. 

“At least it’s a funny meme. Could’ve been worse.” Vanessa sighs.

She supposes she’s lucky it wasn’t as humiliating as it could have been. Though as she’s trying to think about it, Vanessa’s not sure how to make it even more embarrassing. A nip slip? A crowd reaction shot?

_“Speaking of which, the gym is getting tweets from news outlets trying to write about it. They want a first hand scoop.”_ Brooke snorts. 

Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Are you kidding? What sort of wack news outlets want to write about a meme?” 

_“Think of places that start with ‘b’ and rhyme with ‘uzzfeed’.”_

“Ah.” Vanessa nods, because that makes more sense. She pauses, looking at the way Brooke’s face is smiling and kind, when she doesn’t necessarily feel like she deserves it. But maybe, Brooke’s just that nice. “Also...thanks. For what you said.”

_“I am proud. Real proud.”_ Brooke’s smile is soft, reaching her eyes, and it makes Vanessa want to reach into the screen, give her a hug. _“As far as students go, I got lucky.”_

“Even though I turned into a meme?”

_“Especially because you turned into a meme. Don’t let the fame get into your head, though. We have practice again bright and early tomorrow.”_ Brooke clicks her tongue as she winks, and it’s nice, because for a minute, everything just feels normal. 

“Looking forward to it.”

Vanessa hangs up the call and maybe she’s feeling a little bit better after talking to Brooke, her heart not quite threatening to break her chest open anymore. Sure, the threads of disbelief are still hanging over her head in webs because this doesn’t feel real, not really, all the notifications on her phone and the way that Monet and Monique had gleefully told her the news, giddiness mixed in with a little bit of jealousy. Vanessa’s not at the point of wanting it, not just yet. She’s not sure if she’s going to get there, just not the way that her friends would.

But hey, maybe it’ll be fun. And she has no other choice but to roll with it, does she? 

“What the fuck?”

Alexis’ exclamation of surprise echoes from her bedroom and it’s enough to make Vanessa amble over, see what she’s up to. “What?” 

“How the hell did you get verified on Instagram? Totally not jealous or anything, nope.” Alexis huffs and Vanessa scrambles onto Alexis’ mattress beside her, peering over at her screen. 

And there it is. A fancy blue check beside Vanessa’s 245k followers, which, when she refreshes her page, grows to 250k. Holy shit. 

“But that means at least two hundred and fifty thousand people have seen that stupid video. Lord almighty.” Vanessa groans, walking over to Alexis’ bed so that she can hide her face in the blankets, as if it will hide her from everything else, too.

Two hundred and fifty thousand people now know what Vanessa looks like, and know about the idiotic things that she tends to say under pressured situations. That many people have decided to follow her on Instagram, which up until now has really only featured makeup looks and silly pictures with her friends. 

Alexis pats her shoulder, looking a little too calm for Vanessa’s taste. “Technically the video on Twitter has millions of views, so I’d say the number is a bit higher.”

Vanessa’s stomach turns. “That doesn’t make me feel better.” 

“Who said I was trying to do that?” Alexis waves a hand. “Listen, mom and I are the ones you should be thanking. We made you go take boxing classes, right? Now you can be an influencer.”

“You say that as if it’s a good thing.” Vanessa makes a face. A nice gift from them, truly. All Vanessa’s wanted in life. To be a meme of all things, a fucking meme. 

One that Bad Bunny follows.

“It’s a great thing. Hey, can I be your momager? Kris Jenner style? Build a Mateo empire and all that?” Alexis’ face lights up and Vanessa has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her sister never changes.

“You’re not even my mom. Besides, if you were a Kardashian, you’d be Khloe at best.”

Alexis pouts. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Whatever Khloe, this Kim has to head out to work.” Vanessa stretches, lifting herself off the bed to grab her bag as she hears Alexis huff from her position on the mattress. 

“Who says you get to be Kim?”

* * *

The thing about owning a business is that there is always work to be done.

There are bills to pay. Parents to call. Equipment to order. It never ends, not when Brooke is the sole one responsible for making sure everything gets done the way that it should. 

Not that Brooke minds it too much. She likes being at the gym, even if she’s getting work done - the place is always comfortably busy, with classes taking place, athletes training on their own, parents cheering on their kids. The hum of activity in the gym is easy to tune out and becomes white noise that is comforting, a reminder of what she’s used to. The gym is a second home at this point, the banners on the wall and the constant stream of the classes as familiar to her as breathing.

It’s a home that she likes to be in. 

So that’s why Brooke is there at 8 p.m. on a weeknight, despite the fact that today is Vanessa’s day off before training starts again tomorrow. She still has things to do in her office, always does and sometimes, it feels better than just sitting at home. 

“Three kids fell over dramatically and yelled _‘Miss Vanjie out’_ as I walked into the gym just now. Their instructor did _not_ look amused.” Vanessa’s head peeks past the doorway and Brooke ignores the way her chest feels a little bit lighter from hearing her voice, seeing her face. Confirming the fact that she’s still in one piece. 

“What are you doing here? It’s your day off.”

Vanessa shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. “I got bored. What are _you_ doing here? Do you live here? Serious question, is there a bunk tucked away somewhere in this office?”

“As convenient as that would be, I haven’t fully lost it yet, so no.” Brooke snorts. 

Vanessa plops herself down on the edge of her desk, her matching lilac sweatshirt and sweatpants dwarfing her frame while making her look cozy. “I was going stir crazy after work.”

“Hmm?”

“At home.” Vanessa shrugs, her legs swinging a little as they dangle. “Don’t wanna do any chores, can’t talk to Alexis ‘cause she won’t shut up about the fact that I’m a whole ass meme. Can’t go on social media ‘cause it keeps crashing. Also, some reporters found my number and won’t stop calling me. That’s weird, right? Where’d they find that?”

Vanessa bites her lip as she fiddles with her hands on her lap, and the sight makes Brooke’s chest tighten. Sure, Vanessa is smiles and bravado personified, someone with an uncanny ability to charm the pants off of anyone who interacts with her, but her current situation is...exposing. It’s as if she’s put on display under a lens for the whole world to see and react to and share their thoughts on, and worst of all, it’s not in Vanessa’s control, or anyone’s control for that matter. 

And despite Vanessa’s charisma and extroverted personality, Brooke understands how it can be unsettling. She’s been there, after all. 

If only Brooke had a way to protect her. She’s her coach, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she know what to do? Except no rulebooks that Brooke has thumbed through have ever come with instructions on what to do when an athlete becomes an internet sensation. Especially when most of the time, athletes are trying to make it big on purpose. 

Brooke lifts herself up, ambling around the desk to sit down beside Vanessa. There’s a vulnerability in Vanessa’s eyes that’s not often visible when others are around, like her teammates. No, it’s an expressiveness that Vanessa has allowed Brooke to begin to witness over time - the softer sides of her, the ones that are less polished and ready for an audience, and Brooke doesn’t want to ever take it for granted. 

She holds out her hand and Vanessa intertwines their fingers without a second thought, their hands fitting together like pieces of a puzzle despite their difference in size. Vanessa’s palm is warm and there’s no way that Brooke can actually feel her pulse through their grip but from the way that Vanessa’s looking up at her, she wonders if their heartbeats are in sync.

Brooke looks at Vanessa, really looks at her. She’s someone that Brooke has trained for a while now, someone who is trying to convince her to marathon _Bad Girls Club_ , someone who Brooke considers a friend - Vanessa’s her friend, right? Is that what they are? Vanessa texts her memes while she’s at work and makes Brooke laugh more than she ever thought she could during training sessions and that’s what friends are supposed to do, aren’t they? At least, Brooke thinks so. Sure, Vanessa is her athlete and someone that Brooke trains and there’s a certain level of professionalism that goes into a coaching scenario but...it’s different. This is different. 

Vanessa is more than just her athlete. She’s someone that Brooke cares about, someone who deserves everything and Brooke just wishes that she could give it to her, make her happy because her smile is the cutest thing and always lights up a room. So it makes sense, then, the way that Brooke’s heart tugs, seeing Vanessa like this, her shoulders slightly slumped and her leg bouncing from anxious energy. 

“I wish I could control it, y’know? I feel like it’s a beast that’s definitely outta my skill set ‘cause last I checked, ‘Miss Vanjie’ was still trending on Twitter. How is a dumb meme spreading so fast?” Vanessa pulls out her phone, her eyebrows scrunching together when the screen is already lit up with notifications. “Christ on a bike.”

If only there was a way that Brooke could shield Vanessa from all of this - no, not shield her, but rather help her wield the spotlight that’s been cast on her. Somehow give her a chance to sit in the driver’s seat with control over what her new audience can see. Brooke wracks her brain, trying to think back to her professional boxing days and how she’d managed her career. Well, not that she’d done the managing, Detox had done that for her-

Oh.

“I don’t know if control would be the right word, but managing, maybe? I know someone who might be able to help with that.” Brooke ventures, because hey, it’s been years since she’s talked to Detox, much less been a client of hers but maybe she’ll have some suggestions. 

Maybe she’ll even take Vanessa on as a client of her own. 

Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “Who? The lord himself so that he can control all of social media?”

“What? No,” Brooke snorts, “though I like that suggestion. I was thinking more in the direction of my old manager.”

Hell, Brooke doesn’t even know if Detox is still in sports management anymore because it’s been years, after all. Though Brooke supposes it’s never a bad idea to at least look into her - having someone that she already knows and trusts is better than a random sleazeball who could be trying to fleece Vanessa for a fat check. 

Brooke’s definitely not going to let Vanessa be taken advantage of, that’s for sure. 

Vanessa looks unconvinced. “A manager? Slow down, ‘cause I’m not even a pro yet. I’m apparently the most amateur boxer to box this side of the equator, from that tournament. Wouldn’t a whole ass manager be a little fast?”

“First of all, continue that negative self talk, and that’ll translate to more reps during tomorrow’s morning workout.” Brooke gives Vanessa a look and her sheepish smile is enough to make her own expression soften almost immediately. 

“Aye aye, captain.”

“Second,” Brooke continues, “you may not be a pro boxer just yet, but you seem to have splashed into the mainstream in a more memorable way than any pro boxer will ever be able to achieve. You have a platform now, and that’s not something that’s easy to get.”

“A platform built on a meme.” Vanessa mumbles, and Brooke nudges her shoulder.

“It’s your platform. Your microphone. Sure, it’s not exactly what you expected, but what big break ever is? It’s your turn to figure out what you want to do with it.”

Vanessa bites her lip. “You make it sound easy.”

“Sure as hell won’t be easy. Fame never really is, honestly. But I’ll be here with you to navigate through it and figure it out. If you’ll have me. Help you discover what kind of stage you want to have.” It’s presumptuous, Brooke knows, because she’s only Vanessa’s coach after all and it’s not like they’ve been working together for years and years, and maybe Vanessa doesn’t even care that much.

But then Vanessa’s throwing her arms around Brooke’s neck, and Brooke’s face is pressed against the soft cotton of her hoodie and it’s funny, really, how well Vanessa fits in her embrace, from the way she almost curls up against her. “You better be. You’re my coach, which means we’re automatically ride or dies, right? Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Is that how you want it to go?”

“Is that how _you_ want it to go?" Vanessa pulls back and the sudden uncertainty in her eyes makes Brooke want to reach out and smooth over her furrowed brow.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she pulls Vanessa back into a hug. “It’s definitely how I want it to go.”

“Good.” Vanessa’s voice is muffled as she shuffles closer in their hug. “Now call up your friend Detroit or whatever her name is, ‘cause we need her advice.”

“Detox?”

“Close enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me and talk to me at @plastiquetiaras on tumblr!


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